THE GREAT FUR LAND 



Sketches of life 



HUDSON'S BAY TERRITORY 



H. M. ROBINSON 



WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS FROiM DESIGNS BY 
CHARLES GASCHE 






A^;^ 1879. .0* ' 



NEW YORK 

G. p. PUTNAM'S SONS 
182 Fifth Avenue 



1879 



Copyright, 1S79, by G. P. Pi'tnam's Sons, 



/O 



J" 

PREFACE. 



T N the preparation of this volume the aim of the author 
-"- has been to present some of the more picturesque phases 
of life in the Hudson's Bay Territory, Avithout wearying the 
reader with the personal business of the traveler. To this 
end he has shaped his material in the form of sketches, con- 
nected only by their order, which represents the seasons of 
the year in which the features treated periodically recur. 

Wherever the personal knowledge of the author has been at 
fault, the following works of other travelers have formed 
the basis of his descriptions : Hargrave's Red Rivcr^ Butler's 
Great Lone Land and Wild North Land, Ballantyne's Hud- 
son Bay, Southesk's Saskatchewan and the Rocky Mountains, 
and Milton and Cheadle's Northwest Passage by Land. 
Much of the material used in the composition of the vol- 
ume has appeared heretofore in the shape of contributions 
to Appleton's Journal, ILarper's and Lippincotf s Magazitics, 
and the New York Evening Post. 

H. M. R. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



A Journey By Dog-Sledge. — A Reminiscence — The Passenger 
Cariole — Sledge-Dogs — The Freight-Sledge — A Heathen Cree — 
The Departure — Hybrid Mercuries — A New Sensation — Bibu- 
lous Surnames — A Hudson's Bay Fort — The Night Bivouac — The 
Hauling-dog's Day — Hie Jacet — A Dream — The Midnight Choir 
— The Morning Start — Lake- Travel by DogSledge — The Storm 
— Anathema Maranatha — Persuasion by the Whip — The Esqui- 
maux Dog — An Invocation to the Manitou — Marche ! — The End 
of the Journey i 

CHAPTER II. 

Canoe-Life. — The Advent of Spring — The Birch-bark Canoe — Its 
Uses — How it is Made — The Old Life of the Wilderness — Canotes 
De Maitre — A North Canoe — The Voyageurs' Boat-song — Arrival 
of a Canoe-brigade — Canoe-travel — A Summer Landscape — Ap- 
proaching a Rapid — The Ascent — Patching a Leak — Poling — 
Shooting a Rapid — Sic Transit 27 • 

CHAPTER in. 
The Half-Breed Voyageur. — A Typical Half-Breed — His Mixed 
Language — His Origin — Primitive Courtship in the Woods — 
Number and Location of the Half-Breeds — The French Metis — 
His Home and Surroundings — The Bed of Ware — Occupations of 
our Half-Brother — His Improvidence — His Social Life — A Half- 
Breed "Noce" — Spring Work and Summer Labor — Prolonged 
Feasting with Famine to Follow — The Tastes of the Half-Breed 
— His Mixed Theology 40 



VI co.vri:.\rs. 

CUAVTER IV. 

rAO.K 

THK Hudson's Bay CoMr.vNY. — Its Relations to the Country — Or- 
ganization of the Comixiny — The Fur Trade — The Company's 
Ser\-ants — Life in the Service — The Kewauls of Long Seivice — 
Routine of Advancement — The Wintering Partner — Wives to 
Oixiei^ — The Aristocracy of the Wilderness — Change o{ IVigrammc 
— The Extent of the Fur Country — Its Divisions — Hudson's Bay 
Forts — Their Garrisons — Fort Gairy — Churchill Factory — Trad- 
ing-Posts. — The Tn\de-R».x>m — A Trading Pj-ecaulion — System of 
Trading — Collection of Furs — The Life of the Servant 56 

CHAPTER V. 
Ijkk in a Hipson's Bay Comtany's Fort. — Business Routine — 
How it is AcijuiixHi — The Real Life of the Fort — The Otficers' 
Mess — Subjects of Conversation — A Transient Guest — Meal-time 
S<.Kiality — The Stranger within the Gates — The Mess-table — A 
Bill-of-Fare — Fovxl Supplies — Starvation — The Comforts of Up- 
holstery — Peculiarities of Individual Taste — Daily Routine of 
Business — Indi;\n Customers — Trade at Posts — The Monotonous 
Houv^ — An Officer's Log- Book — Games, Literature, and Letter- 
Writing — The Musical Instruments — A Dance — Life after Service SS 

CHAPTER VI. 
A Vo\"Ai":e with thk VoYAOKfKS. — The Boat-brig;ade — Indian and 
Half-caste Women — The Aboriginal I'owi^ttr — The Half-Bn?evl 
J"»M\:j,vi»r — Some Characteristics of the Half-caste — His Pei-sonal 
appearance and Habits — Buying a Wife — The System of Advances, 
and how it Works — Meeting en route — Queer Scenes attending 
the Dejxarture of the Brig;\de — Scenery on the Lower Course of 
the Red River of the North — The Transport Service of the Com- 
pany — The FnMghting Season and its Routine — Inland Boats — 
Their Crews — En Route — The Delta of the Red River — A Mid- 
day Halt — Berry-Pemmican — Apj^earance of Pemmican — Its Sus- 
taining Qualities aiul Flavor — Methods of Cooking it — Tea Drink- 
ing — Making a Portage — Standarvi Weight of Packages in the Fur 
Trade — How the J'MWj,fwr Portages the Cargo — Perils of Lake 
Navigation — Far Niente — A Shore Camj-" — Bedding — A Camp 
Scene — Mosquitoes and their Wa)-s — A Tanley — Incidents of the 
Voyage — The Winnipeg River — Breasting up a Fall — What Next ? 



CONTENT.':. vn 

PACK 

— The Portage Landing — I-'orcing a Rapid — Tracking and its 
Difficulties — Onward Progress — Wash-day — An Al fresco Toilet — 
White Dog io6 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Great Fall Hunts. — Red River Settlement — The Plain- 
Hunters' Ancestry — The Semi-Annual Hunts — Preparation — The 
.Start for the Plains — The Rendezvous — Occupations of the Camp 
— Horse-Racing and Gambling — The Camp by Night — The Morn- 
ing Headache — The Half-Hreed Plain hunter — A Donnybrook 
Fair — A Prairie Election — The Ofificers of the Hunt — The Code 
Napoleon — Departure for the Plains — The Line of March — A 
Burned Prairie — The Night Camp — Sunday Observances — Open- 
air Devotions — The Challenge and Race — Snaring a Bufifalo — The 
Feast and the Famine — Approaching the Herds — The Buffalo 
Runner — The Charge — How the Hunter Loads — Cutting Up — 
Pemmican — How it is Made — How it is Used — Dried Meat — In- 
creasing Scarcity of Buffalo — Prolonged Feasting — The Return — 
Encroaching Civilization 136 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The FRATiiKNiTY OF Medicine-Men. — Life at Trading- Post — A 
Medicine-Feast — Spiritual Communion — Indian Medicines — Pe- 
riodical Poisons and their Queer Effects — The Curious Contents of 
a Medicine-l>ag — Totems — The Medicine- Men — The Cures they 
Perform — Medical Students — A Queer Ceremony — Initiation by 
Torture — Indian Spiritualism — A Total Wreck — An Aboriginal 
Medical College — The Conjuror's Legerdemain — Old Prob — 
Mysterious Power 168 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Blacki-eet — A Pi.ain-Lndian "Trade."' — The Blackfeet 
Country — Perpetual Warfare — Origin of the Blackfeet — Their Con- 
federacy — The Sircies — Language and Location of the Tribes — 
Dress and Appearance of the Blackfeet — Their Mental Character- 
istics — Civil Organization of the Confederac) — Fondness for Liquor 
— Funeral and Burial Ceremonies — Trade with the Blackfeet—^ 
Rocky Mountain House — The Aboriginal Commercial Traveler — 
His Purple and Fine Linen — " Drumming " — Preparations at the 



Vin CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Fort — The Trade-Room — How the Customer is Received — Ap- 
proach of the Band — A Travaille — A Tepee — Blackfeet Ponies — A 
Palaver — An Indian Present — How the Indian Trades — The Ins 
and the Outs — The Rush to get In — Characteristic Objections — A 
Horse Trade — The Current Coin of the Fur Land — A New Suit 
and Its Fate — Liquor Trading — A New Legal Tender — Some 
Queer Scenes 1S5 

CHAPTER X. 
Winter Travel. — Autumn in the Fur Land — Wheels vs. Runners — 
The Red River Cart — The Carriage of Madame — Raw-hide Har- 
ness — Sliaganappi — Tlie Cart-Pony — A Native Horseman — An 
Indian Pony — The Careening Cariole and its Uses — Locomotion 
on Snovvshoes — Sledge-dogs — The Hudson's Bay Dog-sledge — • 
The Freight-Sledge — Dog Harness — The Dog as a Draught Ani- 
mal — Intense Cold — How the Winter Traveler Dresses — How the 
Half-Breed Dresses— Tents in Winter — The Yellow Dog — The 
Morning Start — The Traveler's Irritation — A Fight in Harness — 
A Winter Landscape — The Traveler's Sensations — Incidents of 
the Journey — The Night Camp — An Open-air Bedroom — The 
Daily Routine of Travel 213 

CHAPTER XL 

The Fur Hunter. — Wood Indians — The System of Advances — The 
Trapper's Dress — His Outfit — The Start into the Forest — The 
Trapper's Life — Reading Signs — How to make a Marten-trap — 
Lenten Feasts — Steel Traps for Wolves and Foxes — The Poisoned 
Bait — A Beaver Colony — The Trapper conies — The Beaver Lodge 
— Trapping Beaver in Summer — The Wolverine — The Way he gets 
a Living — His Destructiveness and Persecution of the Trapper — 
Pleasures and Pains of the Trapper's Life — The Vast Forests in 
Winter — Short Commons — Sleeping Out 240 

CHAPTER XII. 
A Winter Camp. — A Social Photograph— The Winter Hunters — 
Half-Breed Houses — The Wife's Relations — Work of the Women 
— Treatment of Infants — Half-Breed Hospitality — Forest Gour- 
mands — Prolonged Feasting with Famine to Follow — A Bill of 
Fare — The Hudson's Bay Ration — Some Phases of Matiimony 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGE 

— The Inconvenience of having but one Room — Wooing in Com- 
pany — Gabriel Dines — Seclusion by Courtesy — How the Half- 
Breed Lover Courts his Sweetheart — Half-Breed Pet Names — 
Love's Whippers-in — The Worth of Sisters and a Father to a 
Maiden whose Lover is Shy — The Wedding Gifts — Later Progress 
of the Wooing — The Groom's Leggins — The Wedding — The In- 
dian Hanger-on — Communism in the Woods — How the Indian 
Begs — The Indian in his Cups — Home of the Hanger-on — The 
Indian Languages — Home Costume of the Red Man — The Mis- 
sionary Priests and their Curious Flocks — The Merchant of the 
Plains — His Store and Customers — The Free-trader's Station in 
Camp — Liquor Trade — March to the Settlements — Disposition of 
the Furs — Sojourn of the Trader in Civilization — The Winter 
Hunt — Departure for the Bufl'alo Grounds — Strategy of the Hunt 
— Stalking — Cutting up the Buffaloes — A Forest Meat-house — End 
of the Expedition — The White Stranger — The Poetry of Wild 
Life 254 

CHAPTER XIII. 
The Frost King. — The Prairie Ocean — Its Antiquity — Some Curious 
Features — Sun Guidance — Lost upon the Prairie — The Plains in 
Winter — The Mirage — The Guideboards of the Plain-dweller — 
A Winter Scene — Frozen Noses — Some Phenomena of Arctic 
Weather — A Poudre Day — Incidents of Winter Travel — The 
Melancholy Still Days — Night on the Prairies — Clothing for Cold 
Weather — A Winter Landscape — The Terrors of a Blizzard — A 
Freezing Experience ■. 289 

CHAPTER XIV. 
A Half-Breed Ball. — The Invitation — Mental Pictures — Consular 
Archives — The Habiliments of Rejoicing — An Upset — Peculiari- 
ties of my Attendant — Discharged from the Sledge — My Host and 
his Guests — A General Introduction — Pauline — French Osculation 
— The Groom Expectant — My Hostess and her Cuisine — A Time to 
Dance — A Half-Breed Terpsichore — I Dance — Then Swear Off 
— The Ball Supper — A Satisfied Appetite — Disposal of Wearied 
Guests — Morning and Departure 315 

CHAPTER XV. 
A Wood-Indian "Trade." — How the Hudson's Bay Company 
gathers Furs — The Extent and Methods of Business — Winter 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

ill the Forts — Indian Trappers' Spring Visit — The Company's 
Prices and Profits — High Prices paid for Muskets and Blankets — 
The Cost of Goods — The Liquor Traffic — A Fair Standard of Value 
— An Indian's Queer Ways of Sliopping — The White Medicine- 
Man — The Luxuries of Life — The Trappers' Relations to the Com- 
pany — The Preservation of Game — The System of Advances — Tea 
and Tobacco — Spring Work — The Wealth of Furs — The Pine Mar- 
ten — The Fisher — The Mink — The Raccoon — Costly Fox-fur — 
The Decline in demand for Beaver-skins — Muskrats — The Lynx 
and Sea Otter — Bear and Rabbit Skins — The Robe of Commerce 
— The Buffalo's Coat — Likeness to Lions — Women's Work — 
Painting the Robes — The Indian's Friend — Finis 326 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 



One of the Team 5 V. 

The Line of March 9 - 

The Night Camp ... 17 

A Half-Breed's Cabin 43 

A Hudson's Bay Company's Post 55 

A Hudson's Bay Company's Outpost 75 

A Portage Landing 99 

A Northern River 105 

Making a Portage 119 

A Portage Camp 133 

Tracking 134-/- 

A Blackfeet Grave 193 f 

The Trading Store . 201 f 

Cart-Wheel Scow 215-* 

A Carioi.e 221 -J 

Hudson's Bay Dogs ... i 223 ^ 

A Freight-Sledge 226 - 

A Fight in Harness .... 233 - 

Steel Traps 245 - 

A Winter Cam p 253 — 

Half-Breed Leggins 267 - 

Indian Costume ... 273 - 

A Fire-Bag 339 



THE GREAT FUR LAND. 



CHAPTER I. 

A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 



A MEMORY which refuses to associate with ordinary, 
■^^^ remembrances, and has an odd preference for the 
company of sportive and incongruous dreams, is that of a cer- 
tain charming gentleman, of extremely punctilious bearing, 
careering wildly over a frozen Northern prairie in a dog- 
sledge. He Avas the proprietor and determined wearer of the 
only silk hat within a radius of four hundred miles, and still 
adhered to the use of a shawl as an outer covering long years 
after it had ceased to be employed as an article of wear. 
Added to this was an irreproachable suit of black broadcloth, 
the like of which was not to be encountered within the same 
radius, and a pair of tight boots, that would have frozen the 
feet of a half-breed runner. In this civilized apparel he was 
essaying his first ride in a dog-sledge, and a more incongruous 
spectacle it has never been my lot to behold. 

Seated in a cariole resembling in shape a heelless shoe, 
the unfortunate gentleman was whirling over the drifted plain 
in rapid but tortuous course. Having, in the confidence of 
perfect ignorance, refused the proffered services of a driver 



2 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

lest he should excite ridicule by being guarded and guided 
like an infant in a baby-cab, he was now reaping the fruits of 
his rashness in a series of the most remarkable gyrations of 
which the human body is capable. The dogs being unac- 
quainted with the language of their freight, and evidently 
animated by the spirit of evil, wandered at their own sweet 
will over the snow-covered plain ; their will generally prompt- 
ing them to plunge headlong into every drift, or to skirt the 
steep sides of the long ridges. Under these depressing cir- 
cumstances, it behooved the neophyte to use his utmost en- 
deavor to retain an upright position, in order to avoid a 
sledge-ride in which his own body would be used as the run- 
ners, and the cariole assume the place of passenger. 

Being limited by the construction of the sledge to the use 
of his hands alone, hitherto employed in holding his shawl, he 
was forced to drop that favorite covering in order that, by 
swaying rapidly from side to side and plunging his hands in 
the snow, he might right the sledge. This continuous seesaw, 
and the crowning incongruity of the silk hat, gave him at 
length the appearance of a jumping-jack, or " the gentleman 
in black," as he starts suddenly from the box and swings 
pendulous from side to side. His frantic shouts of " Whoa ! " 
availed nothing ; the dogs, having been sent out to give their 
passenger a ride, were evidently bent upon doing it, and 
wandered vaguely about on the drifting snow. At length, a 
more than usually vertical drift being reached, the tired arms 
gave out, and the cariole, left without support, poised a 
moment in mid-air, then turned over, leaving the recumbent 
voyager with his legs still fastened to the sledge, but with 
arms thrust deep into the snow and head calmly pillowed in 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 3 

the depths of his hat. From this position he was powerless 
to move, except at the will of the dogs, who had now faced 
about in their harness, and seated themselves to gaze imper- 
turbably upon the wreck. The spectacle of this representa- 
tive of a higher civilization lying stranded upon a thin board 
in a limitless ocean of snow, proved too much for half-breed 
courtesy ; and there he lay until the owner of the cariole had 
sufficiently recovered from successive convulsions of laughter 
to run to his assistance. 

A determination to avoid a like experience led the writer, 
some time afterward, before undertaking a winter's journey 
across the frozen expanse of Lake WinnijDeg, to pursue a little 
judicious training, surreptitiously undergone upon an unfre- 
quented by-road, before even attempting to decide upon the 
merits of the various teams presented for that service. 

To begin my journey, I purchased a board about nine feet 
long and sixteen inches wide, which was duly steamed and 
turned up at one end. To it wooden bows were fastened, 
while over it was stretched a stout covering of raw-hide. 
This accomplished, the board resembled the front of a slipper. 
To complete the likeness, a heel-top was made by attach- 
ing an upright back about two feet from the rear end, and ex- 
tending the raw-hide covering to it. Then the shoe was sub- 
mitted to an Indian friend, who decorated its outer surface 
with mystical emblems in red and yellow pigments, covering 
the whole with a coating of oil. When the motive power was 
furnished, the s^.ip would be ready to sail. 

The selection of the propelling force was more difficult of 
accomplishment. Dogs of high and low degree were brought 
for inspection ; for dogs in the North have but one occupa- 



4 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

tion — to haul. From the Esquimaux down through all the 
stages of canine life to the Indian mongrel, all are alike doomed 
to labor before a sledge of some kind during the winter months ; 
all are destined to howl under the beatings of a brutal driver ; 
to tug wildly at the moose-skin collar ; to haul until they can 
haul no longer, and then to die. When I look back at the 
long line of seared and whip-marked heads, whose owners 
were put through their best paces in demonstration of their 
perfect fitness for the work, what a host of sadly-resigned 
faces rises up before me ! There were heads lacking an ear, 
an eye ; heads bearing the marks of blows with sticks, whips, 
the heels of boots ; heads that had been held down and beaten 
out of all semblance of life ; and heads yet all bleeding and 
torn with the brutal lashings thought necessary to impart an 
air of liveliness before a probable purchaser ! The same 
retrospect brings up the hybrid drivers of those dogs, upon 
the majority of whose countenances a painful indifference to 
suffering and an inherent brutality were plainly visible — 
dusky, athletic fellows, whose only method of dealing with the 
poor dog, who gave up everything in life for them, was by 
blows and fierce invective. 

For a time all teams submitted for inspection seemed 
wanting in some essential quality. At length, however, my 
prospective driver informed me of a half-breed acquaintance 
who was the possessor of a team which he thought would 
answer the purpose. His mongrel friend resided sixty miles 
away ; but distance and time go for naught in the North — in 
fact, are about the only possessions with which the inhabitants 
are plentifully endowed ; so we compassed the space and pur- 
chased the dogs. There were four of them — long-haired, 



A yO URNE Y BY DOG- SLEDGE. 



5 



clean-legged, fox-headed animals, with more the appearance 
of wolves than of dogs. With them came four sets of har- 




ONE OF THE TEAM. 



ness, each set having a tinkling row of bells in its back-band 
which, being of different tones, rang a merry chime as their 
wearers trotted briskly along. This completed the passenger 
accommodation ; now for the baggage-van. 

Another board, ten feet in length and fourteen inches 
wide, was purchased, steamed, and turned up at one end. 
But, instead of the raw-hide covering, shoe-latchets were in- 
serted in the outer edges of the board, which would tie down 
tightly to its surface the load of provision, bedding, and 
camp-equipage, necessary for the journey. For this sledge 
the motive power was selected less critically ; strength was the 
requisite, not symmetry ; so dogs of strong sinew and large 
bone were chosen, regardless of looks. For provision, we had 
pemmican — the pounded dried meat of the buffalo mingled 
with fat — and black tea ; the dogs had frozen whitefish. 



6 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

My driver was a heathen Cree. He was, moreover, a lin- 
guist, speaking several aboriginal dialects and a kind of 
mongrel French. Five golden sovereigns constituted the 
bond of union between us. He was a lank, muscular man, 
the bones of whose huge frame stood out conspicuously at the 
joints and angles, and the muscles showed distinctly in his 
gaunt meagreness. He had yellow paint on his face, and was 
arrayed in rather bewildering apparel. His headgear was the 
luxuriant chevdure with which Nature had endowed him. 
On his feet he wore moccasins ; on his limbs he wore leggins, 
which extended only a certain way above the knee, leaving 
that Providence which " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb " 
a dreary waste of yellow-mottled skin upon which to experi- 
ment ; on his body he wore a cotton shirt perennially innocent 
of soap. Attached to this shirt, and stretched straight and 
taut across the pit of his stomach, he wore a brass watch- 
chain. Over all, like the mantle of Charity, was strapped a 
green blanket. Thus attired, he resembled a settled melan- 
choly, or a god of bile from a dyspeptic's inferno. Neverthe- 
less, he could travel from forty to sixty miles a day, running 
alongside the sledge. 

It was the loth of December when we left Fort Garry, 
bound down the Red River of the North, across the frozen 
length of Lake Winnipeg, to Norway House, at its northern 
extremity. There started with us the four dog-trains and two 
drivers which constitute the Great Northern Packet of the 
Hudson's Bay Company, and which, with its connecting links, 
scatters news over all that vast region lying between the forty- 
ninth and sixty-seventh parallels of latitude, in North 



A JOURNEY BY DOC-SLEDGE. y 

America, and reaching east and west from Labrador to Alaska. 
Our route being the same, we joined company with the hybrid 
Mercuries, and began our journey amid much cracking of 
whips, howling of dogs, and profanity discreetly veiled by de- 
livery in the heathen tongues. 

To the novice the spectacle presented by a number of 
gayly-accoutered dog-trains gliding merrily by is a cheerful 
one. The tiny bells keeping time to the foot-falls of the 
shaggy train ; the cariole fantastically decorated in bright, 
warm colors ; the passenger cozily wrapped in furs and 
woolens of shades suggestive of warmth and comfort ; the 
active driver trotting unweariedly alongside, until the sledge 
with all its belongings becomes a mere speck of black upon 
the limitless expanse of snow — all conspire to commend dog- 
sledging to the transient spectator as the ideal of winter travel, 
the veritable poetry of motion. The swan-like motion of the 
sledge as its thin bottom yields in graceful curves and undu- 
lations, to adapt itself to inequalities of surface beneath it, is 
strangely suggestive of the progress of a canoe over waters 
faintly ruffled by a passing breeze. To lie in such a cradle, 
and be gently rocked over a varying landscape hour after 
hour, would seem an idyllic life in which satiety could never 
come. But, suppose the cold to be of that intensity which 
it is neither possible to picture nor describe ; of that degree 
in which, after having spoken of the whip-handle which burns 
the hand that touches it, the tea that freezes while it is being 
drunk ; in which an instant's exposure of the face leaves the 
cheek or the classical nose upon which one prides himself 
white and rigid as a piece of marble ; in which the traveler, 
with head bowed to meet the crushing blast, goes wearily on, 



8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

as silent as the river and forests through which he rides, and 
from whose rigid bosom no sound ever comes, no ripple ever 
breaks, no bird, no beast, no human face appears — a cold of 
which, having said all this, there is a sense of utter inability 
to convey any adequate idea, except that it means sure and 
certain death, with calm and peaceful face turned up to the 
sky, and form hard and unimpressible as if carved from 
granite, within a period whose duration w^ould expire in the 
few hours of a winter's daylight if there were no fire or means 
of making it upon the track. 

Suppose, too, that the gently-undulating motion of the 
sledge, in accommodating itself to the inequalities of the 
frozen surface, which seemed so suggestive of a canoe floating 
cork-like upon rippling water, felt, now^ that one is seated in 
the sledge, like being dragged over a gravel-walk upon a sheet ; 
or that the track has been completely snowed up, and the 
wretched dogs are unequal to the emergency. Mistatim, the 
leader, is willing, but young, thin, and weak ; the middle one, 
Shoathinga, is aged and asthmatic ; and the shafter, Kuskita- 
ostiquarn, lame and lethargic. From morning till night the 
air resounds with howling and the cries of their drivers anathe- 
matizing Shoathinga and Kuskitaostiquarn. The sledges 
constantly upset from running against a stump or slipping 
over a hillside ; and, when one hauls and strains to right them, 
the dogs lie quietly down, looking round at him, and not offer- 
ing to pull an ounce to help. When the driver, aggravated 
beyond endurance, rushes up, stick in hand, and bent on 
punishment, they make frantic exertions, which only render 
matters worse, resuming their quiescent attitude the moment 
he returns again to haul at the sleigh ; and all this time, per- 



A JOURNE Y BY DOG-SLEDGE. 




iii,feii«;.,iiii&Ki,iiii>ii 



nil 



lO THE GREA T FUR LAXD. 

haps, the unfortunate passenger lies, bound and helpless, half 
buried in the snow. Under these conditions the scene changes, 
and the envious spectator of the poetry of motion retires with 
more sympathy for those old voyageurs of the fur-trade, who 
used to pay stipulated sums to the happy inventors of new and 
strange oaths. 

The fall of snow on land being insufficient for sledding 
purposes, we followed the frozen channel of the river as a 
track, the six trains gliding smoothly over the first stage of 
their journey. Harnessed in tandem fashion, one after an- 
other, the twenty-four dogs and accompanying sledges formed 
a long line, and presented a gallant spectacle. Fresh from a 
long rest, they trotted gayly along, affording their drivers but 
little pretext for blows or imprecation in the breath-taking 
pace they attained. True, the gaunt Cree dealt Whiskey a 
merciless flick, from time to time, and urged upon Brandy the 
necessity of minding his eye ; but I fancy it was owing more 
to a desire to keep his hand in play, and his vocabulary of 
invective in memory, than from any defect in their work. 
Nevertheless, such casual and indifferently-bestowed abuse 
revealed the fact that, of the eight animals who were doing 
their best individually and collectively, to haul me and my 
baggage over that waste of ice, five rejoiced in the names of 
Brandy and Whiskey, while the remaining three distributed 
Coffee and Chocolate between them. This knowledge was a 
blow under which I reeled. An apostle of temperance sweep- 
ing past lonely dwellings, and dashing with a wild scurry 
through Indian camps, shrieking for strong drink, and followed 
by a wild retainer opposing his demands with suggestions of 
coffee and chocolate, would likely convey to the startled 



A yOURNE Y BY DOC-SLEDGE. 1 1 

dwellers on the plain the idea of a migratory delirium tre- 
mens, or a peripatetic advertisement of " The Bar-tender's 
Own Book." Upon inquiry, however, my misery was found 
to have abundant company ; for, of the sixteen dogs attached 
to the packet-trains, no fewer than eleven reveled in an 
alcoholic nomenclature. The reason assigned by the drivers 
for so general use of spirituous appellations was, that the mere 
sound of these names was suggestive of warmth, comfort, and 
good cheer ; from which the wearied driver doubtless derived 
a satisfaction equal to washing 

" . . . . his hands with invisible soap, 
In imperceptible water." 

Still, upon second thought, it may be held that, as certain 
colors are suggestive of warmth and comfort — a stove painted 
red about the base ofttimes deludes the casual visitor with the 
idea of heat — so may the influence of certain names be pro- 
ductive of like genial effect upon the imagination. How- 
ever it may be, I know that if such nomenclature be adopted 
without well-founded reason on the part of the dog-driver, it 
is the only thing in the many curious phases of his life that 
is so accepted. Not a thread in the web of his existence but 
has its use. 

Twenty miles below our point of departure, and perched 
upon the lofty and precipitous bluffs of the river, we caught 
sight of one of those impossible pictures of mediaeval fortifi- 
cation w^hich so often adorn the lids of snuff-boxes, or the 
pages of ancient albums. There were the same peaked roofs 
and turrets, the same bleak view of unadorned stone-wall, with 
bastions, ramparts, gates, and all, as in the original. But no 



12 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

plumed knight or trusty squire issued from its portals, nor 
double-handed sword or glittering armor decked its halls. It 
was the abode of Dives, and Dives trades in beads and gilt, in 
furs and tobacco, in cattle and calico. As a company's * 
trading-post it proved a somewhat extensive collection of resi- 
dences, shops, and stores. These were all inclosed within a 
stone-wall, pierced throughout its entire circuit with loop- 
holes, so arranged as to suggest the inquiry whether, in the 
extremely improbable event of the place being besieged, they 
would present greater facilities to the defenders of the estab- 
lishment, or to the assailants in firing through them at the 
garrison within. 

The banks hereabouts were high and densely wooded. 
Some miles below, however, the woods disappeared, and the 
banks, which gradually sank to a lower level, were covered 
with long, reedy grass. Indian tents, surrounded even at that 
late season by nets hung up to dry, indicated the pursuits of 
their owners. The stream, after reaching the low country, 
split into numerous channels, through several of which its 
waters found their way into Lake Winnipeg. 

At the outlet of the main channel our sledges were run 
ashore. The bank here was a long strip of shingle running 
out into the lake, the frozen waters of which extended north- 
ward out of sight. We had accomplished over forty miles ; 
the night was closing in, and this was the last available camp- 
ing-place before setting out upon the long stretches from islet 
to islet, or point to point, of the lake's shore. So the drivers 
loosed their dogs, and proceeded to gather drift-wood for the 

* The Company referred to here, and elsewhere throughout the book 
where the word occurs, is invariably the Hon. Hudson's Bay Company. 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 1 3 

night. The twenty-four dogs, meanwhile, surveyed each 
other grimly, discovered points of etiquette upon which they 
could not agree, and fell into a general fight, threatening dis- 
astrous consequences until the loaded whip-stocks of the men 
separated them. 

The snow having been cleared away by the aid of a snow- 
shoe used as a shovel, and our own supper prepared and 
eaten, we turned our attention to the dogs who had borne the 
burden if not the heat of the day ; for the sledge-dog's day is 
one long tissue of trial. Put to a task from which his whole na- 
ture revolts, he is driven to the violation of every instinct by the 
continual lashings of a driver's whip. Before Night has lifted 
her sable mantle to shroud the stars, the sledge-dog has his 
slumbers rudely broken by the summons of his master. Close 
by the camp, under the protecting lee of stump or fallen tree, 
he has lain coiled in the roundest of balls during the night. 
Perhaps, if his lines are cast in pleasant places, he has en- 
croached upon his driver's blanket, and contributed his vital 
heat to the comfort of that merciless functionary. Perhaps, 
too, the fast-falling flakes of the snow-storm have covered him 
in their soft folds, adding to his sense of warmth, and reveal- 
ing his presence only in the shape of a rounded hillock of 
snow. He may, perchance, dream the dreams of peace and 
comfort, or imagine that his soft covering will render him 
undistinguishable from the surrounding mass of white ; to be 
awakened from his delusion by blow of whip-stock, a kick of 
the driver's foot, and the stern command to find his place in 
the gaudy gear of moose-skin and bells awaiting him — an 
ornamented and bedizened harness that mocks the pathos of 
his whip-marked face and trembling figure. Then comes the 



14 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

start. The wooded copse is left behind, and under the in- 
cipient dawn he plods along through the snow. The sleepy 
driver seeks to dissipate the morning cold by rapid motion, 
and mercilessly urges the dog to his utmost effort. The crisp 
air resounds with the crack of his whip and the echoes of his 
dire imprecation. The dog, not yet nerved to his uncongenial 
labor, cunningly takes every advantage to shirk, refusing to 
pull when it is most required, and showing wonderful speed 
and alacrity, rushing off with the heavy sledge when the dis- 
tracted driver comes near to punish. 

The day dawns, sun rises, morning merges into mid-day, 
and it is time to halt for a dinner in which the hauling-dog 
cannot share ; then on again in Indian file, as before. If 
there be no path in the snow, the driver travels before to beat 
one with his snow-shoes, and the "foregoer," or leading-dog, 
follows close behind. But if there be a track, however faint, 
the animal follows it himself ; and when lost to sight by wrack 
and drift of tempest, his sense of smell enables him to keep it 
straight. Thus through the short hours of the winter's day 
they travel on, in withered woods through which the wind 
howls and shrieks, or on the endless expanse of snow, the 
glare of whose unsullied whiteness blinds the vision of the 
lake-traveler ; through solitudes which, save when the occa- 
sional dog-sledge with its peals of bells in winter, or the 
swiftly-passing boat-brigade resonant with the songs of the 
summer voyageurs, intrudes, with its momentary variation, 
upon the shriek of the all-penetrating wind, the ripple of the 
stream, the roar of the thunder-toned waterfall, or the howl of 
the wild beast of the woods, are abandoned to the undisturbed 
possession of the Indian hunter and his prey. 



A JO URNE Y BY DOG-SLEDGE. I 5 

When the winter's day draws to a close, and the twilight 
landscape has warned the traveler to choose his resting-place 
for the night, the sledge-dog finds relief from his harness, and 
his day's work is at an end. His battered and disfigured 
face loses in some slight degree its rueful look, to assume an 
air of expectation. He stretches and rolls in the powdery 
snow, then lies down to watch the preparation of the evening 
meal, in faint hope that some meagre portion may slip from 
his master's hand, or be left a moment unguarded. Soon, 
however, his watch merges into unconsciousness, and he 
sleeps. But the termination of his master's meal, followed by 
the sound of the axe striking the block of pemmican, or the 
unloading of the frozen white-fish from the provision-sledge, 
at once wakens him to life and vigor. He leaps quickly up, 
an alert, vicious animal, with every instinct centred in an 
eager craving for food. In the plain-country a daily ration 
of two pounds of pemmican is thrown him ; in the region of 
forest and stream, where fish forms the staple food, he re- 
ceives two large white-fish raw. In his diet he prefers fish to 
meat, and betrays its superiority in his work. His one daily 
meal is soon despatched ; no pleasures of deglutition are his. 
A quick snap, followed by a moment's rapid munching, and 
the pemmican has disappeared ; the same short snap, a few 
cojivulsive throes, and the frozen fish is bolted almost whole, 
and the wistful eyes turned up for more. Not finding it, he 
indulges in a season of growling and snapping at his fellows, 
then lies down out in the snow to sleep, or, perchance, to 
dream of that day, which never comes for him, when the wTTip y-j 
shall be broken and hauling shall be no more. Thus he re- / ^ / 
mains till morn, unless some old shafter, grim and grey, rising 



1 6 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

at midnight on his haunches, inaugurates a chorus to the 
skies ; or a pack of wolves, seated like sentries in a huge 
circle about the camp, challenge him by quick barks to renew 
their hereditary feud. 

The preparations for repose were of the simplest descrip- 
tion. As the wind swept down the lake from the north, our 
heads were placed in that quarter, with feet in dangerous 
proximity to the fire. On the summit of the heap of snow 
formed in digging out our camping-ground were placed, as a 
protection against the fierce blasts, the inverted dog-sledges, 
which assumed amid that dreary landscape the likeness of 
head-stones, marking our resting-place with a rude " Hie 
jacet." Descending into bed from the surface of the snow, 
and muffled in unlimited bedding, the sensation given by the 
surrounding banks and overhanging sledges was that of sleep- 
ing in a gigantic four-poster with a highly-decorated head- 
board. The three drivers lay close together, but for certain 
sanitary reasons their freight chose to form a single spoke in 
the wheel, and reclined at an angle of his own. 

Sleep comes soon to the traveler in arctic winters ; but a 
beautiful dream of a little maiden who was wont to disport 
upon my knees was rudely broken by a visible perception of 
peril — a consciousness of the hovering presence of evil. How 
to describe these feelings I know not ; but as, if the eyes of 
a watcher are steadily fixed upon the countenance of a sleeper 
for a certain length of time, the slumberer will certainly start 
up, wakened by the mysterious magnetism of a recondite 
principle of clairvoyance, so it was that, with closed eyes and 
drowsed-up senses, an inward ability was conferred upon me 
to detect the presence of danger near me — to see, though 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 



17 




lo THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

sleep-blind, the formless shape of a mysterious horror crouch- 
ing beside me. And, as if the peril that was my night-mate* 
was of a nature to be quickened into fatal activity by any 
motion on my part, I felt in my very stupor the critical neces- 
sity of lying quite still ; so that, when I at last awoke and felt 
that, as I lay with my face to the sky, there was a thick, 
heavy, shivering thing upon my chest, I stirred not, nor 
uttered a word of panic. Danger and fear may occasionally 
■dull the sense and paralyze the faculties, but they more fre- 
quently sharpen both ; and when I say that the whole of my 
■chest and even the pit of my stomach were covered with the 
lieavy proportions of the thing, its considerable size will be 
acknowledged. A cold sweat burst from every pore. I 
could hear the beating of my heart, and I felt, to my in- 
creased dismay, that the palsy of terror had begun to agitate 
my limbs. "It will wake," thought I, "and then all is 
over ! " 

At this juncture there sounded above my head a prolonged 
howl, caught up and reiterated in varying chorus by a circle 
of hoarse voices surrounding our couch. And upon this the 
thing rose up on my chest with a quick start, and joined the 
dismal refrain with a barytone of remarkable power ; while 
the voice of my protecting Cree rang out in sudden anger : 
" Whiskey, marche ! Sacre chien, passe partout ! " and the 
warmth-seeking Whiskey shrank quickly from his living ped- 
estal to join his brethren of the mystic circle on the snow 
above. Thus relieved from the weight of the sledge-dog, who 
had presumed upon a gentler nature to increase his own com- 
fort, I peered cautiously up and beheld a scene the most 
grotesque. 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. I9 

Seated upon the highest inverted sledge, with a look of 
utter dejection and overpowering anguish of soul, sat the aged 
leader of a packet-train, lifting up his voice in a series of 
heart-rending howls in deep bass. Seated in a like manner at 
regular intervals about him, and forming a huge circle inclos- 
ing the camp, were the remaining twenty-three dogs, taking 
their cue from the leader, and joining the chorus in dismal 
tenor and rasping soprano. The weird melancholy of that 
howling brought a sense of utter loneliness and desolation. 
The echoes reverberated over the lake, and died away in 
mournful, wailing cadences on the night-wind. The isola- 
tion seemed to deepen, and become palpable. Above, the 
sky was spangled with such myriads of stars as are only seen 
in northern latitudes ; around lay a dreary waste of greyish 
white, empty, desolate, and void of life ; no sound save the 
dismal howling of the dogs. Soon, however, there was inter- 
mingled with it much heathen profanity and objurgation, de- 
livered in various tongues. The chorus had awakened the 
drivers, who were endeavoring to quiet the dogs by impreca- 
tions, in order to avoid the necessity of rising and using the 
whip. " Brandy ! Brandy ! sacre demon ! " " Coffee ! ye ould 
sinner, pren' garde ! " " Chocolat, crapaud that ye aire, 
Chocolat ! " " Whiskey ! ah, sal-au-prix ! " " Whiskey ! " 
" Ah, Coffee ! you will catch it presently ! " " Capitaine ! 
Mistatim ! " "Brandy ! 'ere demon ! " Then followed an out- 
burst of profanity, and a hasty, furious shout to the whole 
circle, resembling a call for mixed drinks which has had no 
equal since the " opening " of the first bar on the Pacific slope. 
All this, however, proved of no avail, and the distracted drivers 
were finally forced to leave their warm beds and grasp their 



20 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

whips, upon which the wretched animals darted off in agonies 
of fear. 

Three hours before dawn we arose and prepared for de- 
parture by eating a fat breakfast and swallowing a great many 
cups of tea. Then my uncivilized driver of dogs, who joined 
the second-sight of a weather-seer to his other accomplish- 
ments, took an inventory of the weather, and predicted a 
storm before nightfall. However, the morning was as favora- 
ble as one could wish, and, incased in robes and blankets, 1 
slid into the shoe-like sledge and was off, the central figure of 
the six sledges and a herd of howling dogs and drivers. The 
point at which we had encamped became speedily undistin- 
guishable among the long line of apparently exactly similar 
localities ranging along the low shore. On in the gray snow- 
light, with a fierce wind sweeping down the long reaches of 
the lake ; nothing spoken, for such cold weather makes men 
silent, morose, and savage. 

Lake-travel, though rapid, is exceedingly harassing on 
account of the high winds which perpetually sweep over the 
immense plain of their frozen surface, intensifying even 
moderate cold to a painful degree. The ice is always rough, 
coated with snow of varying thickness, or drifted into hillocks 
and ridges, alternating with spots of glass-like smoothness, 
which are constantly upsetting the sledges. And this same 
upsetting, a trifling matter enough on shore, is likely to prove 
a serious annoyance where the hardness of the ice nearly 
breaks one's bones. The same hardness, too, increases the 
fatigue of sledge-travel, which at its best may be likened to 
sitting on a thin board dragged quickly over a newly-macad- 
amized road. Then, too, the pedestrian on a frozen lake 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 21 

labors under peculiar disadvantages. Where the snow lies 
deeply, the crust gives way at each step, precipitating the driver 
to the bottom with a sudden jar ; where it lies thinly on the 
surface, or is drifted away, the hardness of the ice injures 
even the practiced voyageiirs, causing swellings of the ankles 
and soles of the feet, and enlargement of the lower bad 
sineAvs of the legs. Again, the winter traveler speedily dis 
covers that very slight e.xercise induces copious perspiration, 
which in the most momentary halt, gets cold upon the skin , 
in fact, in a high wind, the exposed side will appear frozen 
over, while the rest of the body is comparatively warm and 
comfortable. Once cold in this way, it is almost impossible 
to get warm again without the heat of fire, or the severest 
exercise ; and, should the latter be adopted, it must perforce 
be continued until a camping-place is reached. Moreover, to 
a strong man, there is something humiliating in being hauled 
about in a portable bed, like some feeble invalid, while the 
hardy voyageurs are maintaining their steady pace from hour 
to hour, day to day, or week to week ; for fatigue seems with 
them an unknown word. 

Toward noon there were indications that the prophetic 
skill of my heathen driver was about to be verified. The 
wind still kept dead against us, and at times it was impos- 
sible to face its terrible keenness. So great was the drift 
that it obscured the little light afforded by the sun — which 
was very low in the heavens — through a cloudy atmos- 
phere. The dogs began to tire out ; the ice cut their feet, 
and the white surface was often dotted with the crimson 
icicles that fell from their bleeding toes. The four canines 
•hauling the provision-sled turned back whenever opportunity 



22 THE GREAT FUR LAXD. 

presented, or faced about and sat shivering upon their 
haunches. Under these circumstances the anathemas of the 
Cree grew fearful to the ear ; for, of all the qualifications 
requisite to the successful driving of dogs, none is more neces- 
sary than an ability to imprecate freely and with considerable 
variety in at least three different languages. But, whatever 
number of tongues be employed, one is absolutely indispen- 
sable to perfection in the art, and that is French. Whether 
the construction of that dulcet tongue enables the speaker to 
deliver profanity with more bullet-like force and precision, or 
to attain a greater degree of intensity than by other means, I 
know not ; but I do know that, while curses seem useful ad- 
juncts in any language, curses delivered in French will get a 
train of dogs through or over anything. For all dogs in the 
North it is the simplest mode of persuasion. If the dog lies 
down, curse him until he gets up ; if he turns about in the 
harness, curse him until he reverts to his original position ; if 
he looks tired, curse him until he becomes animated ; and, 
when you grow weary of cursing him, get another man to con- 
tinue the process. 

As the education of the Cree, so far as regarded the French 
language, had seemingly been conducted with an eye single to 
the acquirement of anathemas, which long practice enabled him 
to use with such effect that the dogs instinctively dodged them 
as if they had been the sweep of a descending lash, our speed 
at first was not materially affected by the attempted baitings of 
the weary animals. But, as the storm increased in violence, 
and the swirl of powdery siiow swept in their faces, the dogs 
turned about more frequently, and seized every opportunity 
of shirking. Then ensued that inhuman thrashing and varied 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 23 

cursing, that howling of dogs and systematic brutality of dri 
vers, which make up the romance of winter-travel, and degrade 
the driver lower than the brutes. The perversion of the dog 
from his true use to that of a beast of burden is productive of 
countless forms of deception and cunning ; but a life of bond- 
age everywhere produces in the slave vices with which it is 
unfair to blame him. Dogs are often stubborn and provoking, 
and require flogging until brought into subjection ; but lash- 
ings upon the body while laboring in the trains, systematic 
floggings upon the head till their ears drop blood, beatings 
with whip-stocks until nose and jaws are one deep wound, and 
poundings with clubs and stamping with boots till their howls 
merge into low wails of agony, are the frequent penalties of a 
slight deviation from duty. 

Of the four dogs attached to the provision-sledge, three 
underwent repeated beatings at the hands of the Cree. By 
mid-afternoon the head of Whiskey was reduced to a bleeding, 
swollen mass from tremendous thrashings. Chocolat had but 
one eye wherewith to watch the dreaded driver, and Brandy 
had wasted so much strength in wild lurches and sudden 
springs, in order to dodge the descending whip, that he had 
none remaining for the legitimate task of hauling the sledge. 
But one train of dogs out of the six sledges fared better, and 
that one was composed of animals of the Esquimaux breed. 
Fox-headed, long-furred, clean-legged, whose ears, sharp- 
pointed and erect, sprang from a head imbedded in thick tufts 
of woolly hair, hauling to them was as natural as to watch is 
natural to the watch-dog. And of the whole race of dogs, the 
Esquimaux alone should be made a hauling-dog. He alone 
looks happy in his work, and is a good hauler ; and although 



24 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Other dogs will surpass him in speed for a few days, only he 
can maintain a steady pace throughout a long journey, and 
come in fresh at its end. 

At length the violence of the storm forced us to seek the 
shore, and camp for the night ; and no sooner had this been 
accomplished, and supper over, than the Cree, fearing a con- 
tinuance of the storm, summoned a driver of the packet-trains 
to assist in performing a solemn invocation to the Manitou to 
stay the tempest. Rattles made of bladders, with pebbles in 
them, were brought out from their limited luggage ; " medi- 
cine " belts of wolf-skin donned, and other " medicine " or 
magic articles, such as ermine-skins, and musk-rat skins, 
covered with beads and quills. Then the Cree and his com- 
panion drummed and rattled, and sang songs, finishing, after 
some hours, by a long speech, which they repeated together, 
in which they promised to give the Manitou a feast of fat 
meat, and to compose a new song in his praise immediately 
upon the cessation of the storm. After this performance they 
fell asleep. Long before daylight, however, I was awakened 
by the conjurers, who, in high glee, were cutting off tidbits of 
pemmican and casting them into the fire as the promised offer- 
ing to the Manitou, at the same time chanting monotonously, 
and sounding their rattles. Then they engaged in feasting, 
and banished sleep by the persistency with which they sang 
the new song they pretended to have composed for the occa- 
sion, which they continued to sing over and over again without 
cessation until morning. As they had both been fast asleep 
all night, it is shrewdly suspected that they attempted to im- 
pose upon their Manitou by making shift with an old hymn. 



A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 2$ 

for they certainly could have had no opportunity for compos- 
ing the new one promised. However this may be, the Manitou 
performed his part, for the storm was much abated. 

At an early hour a start was again made in the usual man- 
ner — the harsh command " Marche !" followed by deep-toned 
yells from the crouching dogs ; then, a merciless beating and 
thumping, and the cowering animals at length set off with the 
heavy loads, howling as if their hearts would break. After the 
thrashing came the abuse and curses. Coffee would be ap- 
pealed to "for the love of Heaven to straighten his traces." 
Chocolat would be solemnly informed that he was a migratory 
swindle, and possessed of no character whatever. Brandy 
would be entreated to "just see if he couldn't do a little bet- 
ter ; " that he was the offspring of very disreputable parents, 
and would be thrashed presently. The passenger's only occu- 
pation was to keep from freezing. Vain task ! Though 
buried head and all in two robes and a blanket, the wind found 
its way through everything, and the master, sitting still in his 
wraps, suffered more from cold than his man who was running 
against the wind, and suffered, besides, under the depressing 
sense of his idle helplessness, while the driver felt the cheering 
influence of hardy toil. 

Thus we journeyed on, the incidents of one day being but 
an iteration of that preceding. For eight days our course led 
from point to point of the lake's shore, upon the immense sur- 
face of which our six fleeting sledges seemed the veriest crawl- 
ing insects. Nevertheless, we passed in rapid flight, at last 

sweeping up the rocky promontory and within the palisade of 
2 



26 



THE GREA T FUR LAND. 



Norway House, like the ghostly stormers of the Rhenish castle. 
In this hospitable shelter we halted for a time, while the great 
Northern packet journeyed on toward the unknown land of 
the far North. The dogs slept quietly in their kennels ; the 
heathen Cree, with his hardly-earned sovereigns, arrayed him- 
self in more intricate apparel, and stalked a green-and-yellow 
apparition among the squalid tepees of a neighboring Indian 
camp. 



CHAPTER II. 



CANOE LIFE 



O UMMER in the Fur Land treads so closely upon the heels 
*^-^ of winter as to leave but little standing room for spring. 
About the second week in April the earth begins to soften ; 
the forest becomes fragrant with last year's leaves and this 
year's buds ; the little rills wander feebly riverward, and the 
wild duck wings its flight along the water-courses. During 
the following week the days grow soft and warm ; rain falls in 
occasional showers ; the thermometer varies from fifty to sixty 
degrees between daybreak and mid-afternoon. A few days 
later, the river, which hitherto has churlishly resisted all the 
advances of spring, begins to show symptoms of yielding at 
last to her soft entreaties. Tears rise upon his iron face, and 
flow down his frosted cheeks ; his great heart seems to swell 
within him, and ominous groans break from his long-silent 
bosom. At night, however, he thinks better of it, and looks 
grim, rigid and unsusceptible in the early morning, as if slight- 
ly ashamed of his weakness. But spring, shower, and sun are 
at last too strong for him. All his children are already awake. 
They prattle and purl and pull at him, urging him to open his 
long closed eyelids, to look once more at the blue and golden 
summer. 



28 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

With the coming of the delicate flowers and vernal bloom 
of early May, he gives way suddenly and throws off his icy 
mask. Inanimate nature seems to caress him for the sacrifice. 
The wild flowers and green grasses grow down close to the 
water's edge ; the bright leaves spring forth and fling their 
shadows over the flood ; the balsamic pine and fir kiss the 
placid surface with their overhanging branches. Animate 
nature expresses its joy. The teal, the widgeon, the mallard 
float upon its broad bosom ; the grey goose and wavy crowd 
its estuaries ; the crane stands motionless on one leg, knee- 
deep in the turbid tide ; all the wild things of the water sport 
upon its surface. 

The red man lifts his birch-bark canoe from its resting- 
place, and launches it upon the flood. It is as wild and beau- 
tiful as any bird of them all. Through the long winter it has 
lain beneath a covering of snow and branches ; now, the wild 
swan and wavy, passing northward to the polar seas, wake it 
from its icy sleep. The canoe is a part of the savage ; useless 
to carry the burden of man's labor, fitted alone for him and 
his ways. After generations of use, it has grown into the 
economy of his life. What the horse is to the Arab, the camel 
to the desert traveler, or the dog to the Esquimaux, the birch- 
bark canoe is to the Indian. The forests along the river shores 
yield all the materials requisite for its construction ; cedar for 
its ribs ; birch-bark for its outer covering ; the thews of the 
juniper to sew together the separate pieces ; red pine to give 
resin for the seams and crevices. It is built close to the hunt- 
ing-lodge on river or lake shore. 



CANOE LIFE. 2g 

" And the forest life is in it — 
All its mystery and magic, 
All the tightness of the birch-tree, 
All the toughness of the cedar, 
All the larch's supple sinews, 
And it floated on the river 
Like a yellow leaf in autumn, 
Like a yellow water lily." 

During the summer season the canoe is the home of the 
red man. It is not only a boat, but a house ; he turns it over 
him as a protection Avhen he camps ; he carries it long dis- 
tances over land from lake to lake. Frail beyond words, yet 
he loads it down to the water's edge. In it he steers boldly 
out into the broadest lake, or paddles through wood and swamp 
and reedy shallow — almost over dry land in a heavy dew. 
Sitting in it he gathers his harvest of wild rice, or catches fish, 
or steals upon his game ; dashes down the wildest rapid, braves 
the foaming torrent, or lies like a wild bird on the placid 
waters. While the trees are green, while the waters dance and 
sparkle, and the wild duck dwells in the sedgy ponds, the 
birch-bark canoe is the red man's home. 

And how well he knows the moods of the river ! the mul- 
tiplicity of its perils, and its ever-changing beauty ! To him 
it is replete with all wild instincts. He speaks of it as he 
does of his horse, or his dog, who will do whatever he com- 
mands. It gives him his test of superiority, his proof of 
courage. To guide his canoe through some whirling eddy, 
to shoot some roaring waterfall, to launch it by the edge of 
some fiercely-rushing torrent, or dash down a foaming rapid, 
is to be a brave and skillful Indian. The man who does all 
this, and does it well, must possess a rapidity of glance, a 



30 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

power in the sweep of his paddle, and a quiet consciousness 
of skill, not attained save by long years of practice. 

An exceedingly light and graceful craft is the birch-bark 
canoe ; a type of speed and beauty. So light that one man 
can easily carry it on his shoulder over land where a waterfall 
obstructs his progress ; and as it only sinks five or six inches 
in the water, few places are too shallow to float it. The bark 
of the birch-tree, of which it is made, is about a quarter of an 
inch thick. Inside of it is laid a lining of extremely thin 
flakes of wood, over which are driven a number of light bows 
to give strength and solidity to the canoe. In this frail bark, 
which measures anywhere from twelve to forty feet long, and 
from two to five feet broad in the middle, the Indian and his 
family travel over the innumerable lakes and rivers, and the 
fur-hunters pursue their lonely calling. 

In the old life of the wilderness the canoe played an im- 
portant part, and the half-breed voyagcur was a skilled rival 
of the red man in its management. Before the consolidation 
of the Fur Companies,* when rival corporations contended 
for the possession of the trade of the Fur Land, the echoes 
along the river reaches and gloomy forests were far oftener 
and more loudly awakened than now. The Northwest 
Company, having its head-quarters in Montreal, imported 
its entire supplies into the country and exported all their furs 
out of it in north canoes. Carrying on business upon an 
extended scale, the traffic was correspondingly great. Not 
less than ten brigades, each numbering twenty canoes, passed 
* The Hudson's Bay, Northwest, and X. Y. Companies. 



CANOE LIFE. 31 

over the route during the summer months. The first half of 
the journey, over the great lakes, was made in very large 
canoes, known as canotcs dc maitrc, a considerable number of 
which are still kept at the border posts for the use of the 
company's travelers. These canoes are of the largest size, 
exceeding the north canoe in length by several feet, besides 
being much broader and deeper. They are, however, too 
large and cumbersome for traveling in the interior — where 
the canoe goes literally over hill and dale — requiring four 
men to carry them instead of two, like the north canoe ; be- 
sides, they are capable of carrying twice as much cargo, and 
are paddled by fourteen or sixteen voyageurs. 

The north canoe, the ideal craft of the summer voyageiir, 
and which still plays an important part in the fur-trade, is a 
light and graceful vessel about thirty-six feet long, by four or 
five broad, and capable of containing eight men and three 
passengers. Made entirely of birch-bark, it is gaudily painted 
on bow and stern with those mystical figures which the super- \ 
stitious boatmen believe to increase its speed. In this fairy- 
like craft the traveler sweeps swiftly over the long river- 
reaches ; the bright vermilion paddles glancing in the sun- 
shine, and the forests echoing back the measures of some 
weird boat-song, sung by the voyageurs in full chorus ; now 
floating down a swiftly-rushing rapid, again gliding over the 
surface of a quiet lake, or making a portage over land where 
a rapid is too dangerous to descend. 

Those who have not seen it can have but a faint idea of 
the picturesque effects of these passing canoe-brigades. 



32 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Sweeping suddenly round some promontory in the wilderness, 
they burst unexpectedly upon the view, like some weird 
phantom of mirage. At the same moment the wild yet simple 
chansons of the voyageurs strike upon the ear : 

" Qui en a compose la chanson ? 
C'est Pierre Falcon ! le bon gar9on ! 
Elle a ete faite et compose 
Sur le victoire que nous avons gagne ! 
Elle a ete faite et compose 
Chantons la gloire de tous ces Bois-brules !" 

Sung with all the force of a hundred voices ; which, rising 
and falling in soft cadences in the distance, as it is borne 
lightly upon the breeze, then more steadily as they approach 
swells out in the rich tones of many a mellow voice, and 
bursts at last into a long, enthusiastic chorus. The deep 
forests and precipitous banks echo back the refrain in varying 
volume ; the long line of canoes is half shrouded in the spray 
that flies from the bright vermilion paddles, as they are urged 
over the water with the speed of the flying deer, until, sweep- 
ing round some projecting headland, they disappear, like 
"the baseless fabric of a dream." 

But the winged passage of these birds of flight conveys but 
a faint idea of the sensation experienced on witnessing the 
arrival of a brigade at an inland post after a long journey. 
It is then they appear in all their wild perfection ; and the 
spectator catches a glimpse of the supreme picturesqueness of 
the Fur Land. The voyageurs upon such occasions are at- 
tired in their most bewildering apparel, and gaudy feathers, 



CANOE LIFE. 



33 



ribbons and tassels stream in abundance from their caps and 
garters. Gayly ornamented, and ranged side by side, like con- 
tending chariots in the arena, the frail canoes skim like a bird 
of passage over the water ; scarcely seeming to touch it under 
the vigorous and rapid strokes of the small but numerous 
paddles by which the powerful voyageurs strain every muscle 
and nerve to urge them on. A light mist, rising from the 
river, etches them while yet afar in shadowy outline, augment- 
ing their symmetry, like a veil thrown over the face of 
Beauty. The beautifully simple, lively, yet plaintive chanson, 
so much in unison with, that it seems a part of, the surround- 
ing scenery, and yet so different from any other melody, falls 
sweetly upon the ear. In the distance it comes with the 
pleasing melancholy of " Home, Sweet Home ! " and seems 
the vocal expression of the voyageurs' thoughts of their native 
land. On its nearer approach, it changes the feeling into one 
of exultation, as the deep manly voices swell in chorus over 
the placid waters — the " Marseillaise," of the wilderness. 

Nearing the landing, a spirit of competition arises as to 
who shall arrive first. The long canoes speed over the 
waters, like a flight of arrows, to the very edge of the wharf ; 
then, as if by magic, come suddenly to a pause. The paddles 
are rolled on the gunwale simultaneously, enveloping their 
holders in a shower of spray, as they shake the dripping 
water from the bright vermilion blades, and climb lightly from 
their seats. 

Canoe travel in the Fur Land presents many picturesque 
phases. Just as the first faint tinge of coming dawn steals 



34 THE GREA T FUR LAND. i 

over the east, the canoe is lifted gently from its ledge of rock 
and laid upon the water. The blankets, the kettles, the guns, 
and all the paraphernalia of the camp, are placed in it, and the 
swarthy voyageurs- step lightly in. All but one. He remains 
on shore to steady the bark on the water, and keep its sides 
from contact with the rock. It is necessary to be thus careful 
with canoes, as the gum or pitch with which the sides are 
plastered breaks off in lumps, and makes the craft leaky. The 
passenger takes his place in the centre, the outside man springs 
gently in, and the birch-bark canoe glides away from its rocky 
resting-place. 

Each hour reveals some new phase of beauty, some chang- 
ing scene of lonely grandeur. The canoe sweeps rapidly over 
the placid waters ; now buffets with, and advances against, 
the rushing current of some powerful river, which seems to 
ibid defiance to its further progress ; again, is carried over 
rocks and through deep forests, when some foaming cataract 
bars its way ; and yet again, dashes across some silvery lake 
with a favoring breeze. The clear unruffled water, studded 
with innumerable islets, stretches out to the horizon, reflecting 
the wooded isles and timber-clad bluffs upon its margin. The 
morning sun, rising in a sea of light, burnishes the motionless 
expanse with a golden sheen, and turns the myriad of dew- 
drops upon the overhanging foliage into sparkling diamonds. 

But there falls upon the ear the rush and roar of water ; 
and, rounding some wooded promontory, or pine-clad island, 
the canoe shoots toward a tumbling mass of spray and foam, 
studded with huge projecting rocks which mark a river rapid. 



CANOE LIFE. 35 

It is a wild scene of wood and rock and water ; but the voya- 
geurs advance upon it with a calm assurance. The boiling 
rapid is nothing to them. All their lives long they have lived 
among them. They have been the playthings of their early 
youth, the realities of their middle life, the instinctive habit of 
their old age. As the canoe approaches the foaming flood, ad- 
vantage is taken of the back current created by the mad rush 
of the mid-stream, and flowing backward close to the banks, 
to push the frail craft as far up the rapid as possible. Then 
the voyageiir in the bow — the important seat in the manage- 
ment of the canoe — rises upon his knees, and closely scans the 
wild scene before attempting the ascent. Sinking down again, 
he seizes the paddle, and pointing significantly to a certain 
spot in the chaos of boiling waters before him, dashes into the 
stream. 

The rushing flood seems to bear the light canoe down with 
the speed of an arrow ; the water boils and hisses to within an 
inch of the gunwale ; and to an unaccustomed traveler it seems 
folly to attempt the ascent. But the skilled canoemen know 
every feature of the rapid. In the centre of the boiling flood 
a large black rock rises above the surface. From its lower 
side a long eddy runs, like the tail of a fish, down the stream. 
It is just opposite this rock that the canoe leaves the back 
current, and toward it the voyageurs paddle with all their 
might. Swept down by the force of the stream, however, they 
just reach the extreme point of the eddy ; but a few vigorous 
strokes of the paddle float the canoe quietly in the lee of the 
rock. Here a momentary halt is made — just long enough to 



6 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 



look for another rock. The bowsman again selects one a few 
yards higher up, and a good deal to one side. The paddles 
are dipped once more, the canoe heads into the torrent again, 
and the sheltering eddy of the second rock is soon reached. 
Yard by yard the rapid is thus ascended, sometimes scarcely 
gaining a foot a minute, again advancing more rapidly, until at 
last the light craft floats upon the very lip of the fall, and a 
long smooth piece of water stretches away up the stream. 

Frequently the ascent is not made without mishap. Some- 
times the canoe runs against a stone, and tears a small hole in 
the bottom. This obliges the voyageurs to put ashore imme- 
diately and repair the damage. They do it swiftly and with 
admirable dexterity. Into the hole is fitted a piece of bark ; 
the fibrous roots of the pine-tree, called "watape," sew it in 
its place ; a small fire is made and pitch melted, and the place 
plastered so as to be effectually water-tight, all within the space 
of an hour. Again, the current is too strong to admit of the 
use of paddles, and recourse is had to poling, if the stream be 
shallow, or tracking if the depth of water forbid the use of 
poles. The latter is an extremely toilsome process, and would 
detract much from the romance of canoe-life in the wilderness 
were it not for the beautiful scenery through which the traveler 
passes. 

Rapid after rapid is surmounted ; and yet, with every 
rounding of point and headland, rapids and falls arise in 
seemingly endless succession. Fairy islets, covered to the 
very edge of the rippling water with luxuriant vegetation, rise 
like emeralds from the broad bosom of the river ; white- 



CANOE LIFE. 37 

winged birds sail about the canoes, or rise in graceful circles 
into the azure sky, and long lines of waterfowl whirr past in 
rapid flight. 

But if the rushing or breasting up a rapid is exciting, the 
operation of shooting them in a birch-bark canoe is doubly so, 
True, all the perpendicular falls have to be "portaged," and 
in a day's journey of forty miles, from twelve to fifteen port- 
ages have to be made. But the rapids are as smooth water to 
the hardy voyagcurs, who, in anything less than a perpendicu- 
lar fall, seldom lift the canoe from the water. And it is im- 
possible to find anything in life which so effectually condenses 
intense nervous excitement into the shortest possible compass 
of time as does the running of an immense rapid. No toil is 
required, but as much coolness, skill, and dexterity as man can 
throw into the work of hand, eye, and head. He must know 
where to strike and how to do it ; the position of every rock, 
the sweep of every drop of water, and the combinations which 
rock and water in relative positions will assume. 

As the frail birch-bark nears the rapid from above, all is 
quiet. One cannot see what is going on below the first rim 
of the rush ; but tiny spirals of spray and the deafening roar 
of falling water give a fair premonition of what is to be ex- 
' pected. The most skillful voyageur sits on his heels in the bow of 
the canoe, the next best oarsman similarly placed in the stern. 
The hand of the bowsman becomes a living intelligence as, ex- 
tended behind him, it motions the steersman where to turn the 
craft. The latter never takes his eye off that hand for an in- 
stant. Its varied expression becomes the life of the canoe. 



38 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

The bowsman peers straight ahead with a glance like that 
of an eagle. He has got a rock or splintered stump on shore 
to steer by, and knows well the only door by which the slope 
of water can be entered. The canoe, seeming like a cockle- 
shell in its frailty, silently approaches the rim where the 
waters disappear from view. On the very edge of the slope 
the bowsman suddenly stands up, and bending forward his 
head, peers eagerly down the eddying rush, then falls upon 
his knees again. Without turning his head for an instant, the 
sentient hand behind him signals its warning to the steers- 
man ; then the canoe is in the very rim ; she dips down the 
slant, shooting her bow clear out of water, and falling hard 
and flat on the lower incline. 

Now there is no time for thought ; no eye is quick enough 
to take in the rushing scene. Here peers a rock just above 
the surface, there yawns a big green cave of water ; here a 
place that looks smooth-running for a moment, suddenly 
opens up into great gurgling chasms sucking down the frail 
canoe. There are strange currents, unexpected whirls, and 
backward eddies and rocks — rocks rough and jagged, smooth, 
slippery, and polished — and through all this the canoe glances 
like an arrow, dips like a wild bird down the wing of the 
storm ; now slanting with a strange side motion from a rock, 
as if with an instinctive shrinking from its presence ; now 
perched upon the very edge of a green cavern, with one foot 
almost in a watery grave, as it were ; now breaking through a 
backward eddy, as if eager to run its wild race. Ofttimes a 
huge rock, time-stained and worn, stands full in the midst of 



CANOE LIFE. 39 

tlie channel, seeming to present an obstacle from which escape 
is impossible. The canoe rushes full toward it, and no human 
power can save it from being dashed to pieces. Stay ! there 
is just one power that can do it, and that is provided by the 
rock itself. No skill of man could run the canoe on to that 
rock ! The fierce current splits upon it, and a wilder sweep 
of water rushes off both its polished sides than on to them. 
The instant the canoe touches that sweep it dashes off with 
redoubled speed. The jagged rock is a haven of safety com- 
pared to the treacherous whirlpool and twisting billow. 

All this time not a word is spoken ; but every now and 
again there is a quick convulsive twist of the bow paddle to 
edge far off some rock, to put her full through some boiling 
billow, to hold her steady down the slope of some thundering 
chute. All this is wild life if you will ; but how tame and 
bare the simple narrative of these facts appears beside their 
actual realization in a north canoe manned by dusky 
voyageiirs ! 

But the old canoe-life of the Fur Land is rapidly passing 
away. The unpicturesque Mackinaw boat has usurped the 
place of the birch-bark canoe, and the forests no longer echo 
the refrain of the voyageurs boat-song. The passage of three 
or four canoes once or twice a year is all that breaks the 
silence of the scene. In many a once well-beaten pathway, 
nought save narrow trails over the portages, and rough 
wooden crosses over the graves of travelers who perished by 
the way, remain to mark the roll of the passing years. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR.* 

IN a narrative of travel through the Hudson's Bay Terri- 
tory in 1 85 9, by Lord Southesk, is given the following 
pen-portrait of James McKay, a half-breed Indian guide : 

" A Scotchman, though with Indian blood on his mother's 
side, he was born and bred in the Saskatchewan country, but 
afterward became a resident of Fort Garry, and entered the 
company's employ. Whether as guide or hunter, he was 
universally reckoned one of their best men. Immensely 
broad-chested and muscular, though not tall, he weighed 
eighteen-stone ; yet, in spite of his stoutness, he was exceed- 
ingly hardy and active, and a wonderful horseman. 

" His face — somewhat Assyrian in type — is very hand- 
some ; short, delicate, aquiline nose ; piercing, dark-grey 
eyes ; long, dark brown hair, beard, and mustache ; small 
white, regular teeth ; skin tanned to a regular bronze by ex- 
posure to the weather. He was dressed in a blue-cloth 
capote (hooded frock-coat), with brass buttons, red-and-black 

* The term " half-breed " is applied indiscriminately in the Fur Land 
to all persons having Indian blood in their veins, and bears no especial 
reference to quantity. In very many instances it is difficult to tell exactly 
\\'here the half-breed ends and the white man begins. 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 4 1 

flannel shirt, which served also for waist-coat ; buff-leather 
moccasins on his feet, black belt around his waist ; trousers 
of brown-and-white-striped home-made woolen stuff." 

This etching of McKay will do duty, in all essential 
points, as the correct portraiture of a large and distinct class 
of people inhabiting the Fur Land, and scattered over our 
own northern frontier, familiarly known as half-breeds, who, 
neither Indian nor white, possess all the craft of one and 
a fair degree of the intelligence of the other. Familiar with 
the customs of both from infancy, they adopt many of the 
habits of civilized life ; but, though existing under an im- 
proved exterior, the romantic life, the custom, mode of 
thought, and language of the Indians, retain their hold on the 
affections of their descendants to successive generations. 
Thus a man whose usual language is English, and one who 
speaks French alone, are enabled to render themselves mutu- 
ally intelligible by means of Cree, their Indian mother tongue, 
though each is totally ignorant of the civilized language or- 
dinarily used by the other. 

At the beginning of the present century, when the rival 
Canadian fur companies, known as the X. Y. and Northwest 
Companies, were engaged in fierce competition with the Hud- 
son's Bay Company for the possession of the Indian trade, 
there sprung into existence, in the exigencies of this special 
service, a class of men known as coiircurs des bois, or wood- 
runners. They were French colonists, whose spirit of ad- 
venture, stimulated by a desire of gain, and love for the free 
roving Indian life, led them to. pursue the calling of trappers 



42 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

and traders, betaking themselves to the woods and hunting- 
grounds of Canada, and spreading gradually over the whole 
country east from the height of land west of Lake Superior. 
As hunters and trappers they were even more skillful than 
their Indian teachers. As traders they were outfitted by the 
Canadian companies with the necessary goods to barter with 
the Indians for furs ; and, after periods of absence extending 
over twelve or fifteen months, spent in traveling in their 
canoes, would return laden with furs of great value, their 
share of which they regularly squandered during a short 
residence in the towns or cities, previous to embarking on 
their next voyage. After the coalition of the competing fur 
companies, in the year 1821, and their consequent loss of 
employment as traders, these coureurs dcs bois gradually 
spread farther into the interior, and penetrated the unsettled 
districts of Dakota and Manitoba, and the nearer Lake Supe- 
rior region. In place of traders, they became more especially 
hunters and trappers, disposing of their furs and produce at 
the trading-posts scattered throughout the country, and near 
which they invariably settled. Rarely ever did they return 
to their native land. The wild roving life in the wilderness had 
too much of excitement in it to permit of a voluntary return to 
the narrow limits of civilization. Moreover, the wood-runner 
had taken to himself an Indian wife ; and although the mar- 
riage ceremony had lacked the essentials of bell, book, and 
candle, yet he got along pretty well with his squaw ; and 
olive branches, jabbering a very few civilized tongues and 
a great many heathen ones, began to multiply about him. 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGE UR. 



43 



r^ 






I s 



11 




44 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

In addition to hunting and trapping, the wood-runners 
became canoe-men and freighters to the trading-companies, 
or engaged in certain miniature agricuhural pursuits tending 
to increase their subsistence. To the half-breed children — a 
numerous progeny — of these French and Indian parents, 
descended the vocation of the father, and the nomadic instincts 
of the mother, resulting in the production of a civilized nomad 
who unites the industries of both civilized and savage life. 
To this element may be added a considerable number of metis., 
the offspring of the Scotch and English employes of the trad- 
ing corporations, and the half-breeds of the old regime, resi- 
dent on the Canadian coasts — for the most part the poorest 
representatives of their class. Scattered over the vast country 
from the Canadas to the Pacific coast, and from the Coteau of 
the Missouri to the Saskatchewan, the half-breed forms the 
advance-guard of civilization, ahead even of the white pioneer. 
His paternity may be French, English, or Scotch — his mater- 
nity Chippewa, Cree, or Sioux ; but his vocation will always 
be the same, until, by admixture of lighter or darker blood, he 
becomes resolved into one of his original elements. 

As a rule, the French half-breed — by far the largest and 
most representative class — is eminently social in disposition, 
and gregarious in his habits. As a consequence, he lives in 
communities, more or less miniature, during the winter months, 
and trades and hunts in bands during the summer. He enjoys 
company and is loath to be alone. Like his wealthier white 
brethren, he affects two annual residences — a log-house for his 
hibernal months, and a wigwam for the summer solstice. As 



THE HA LF- BREED VO YA GE UR. 45 

a rule, he may be addressed at the former. About it he has 
some arable ground, which he cultivates in a feeble and uncer- 
tain manner. He scratches the surface of the ground, and ex- 
pects it to be prolific. Not being fond of labor, the weeds are 
allowed to choke the crop, the fences to fall into decay, and a 
general air of wreck to take possession of his tiny farm. This 
appearance of improvidence becomes perennial, not apparently 
getting worse or better, but remaining at about the same state 
year after year. The scanty crops, when gathered and stacked 
in the open air, in irregular piles, contribute to the general 
tumble-down aspect. Indian ponies, with their usual worn-out 
and overworked look, wander about the premises, or stand 
engaged in melancholy retrospection. About the door-yard 
are a few wooden carts — whose antecedents date back to the 
fields of Normandy — guiltless of iron, in a state of greater or 
less fracture, bound up with rawhide, and ornamented with 
rusty sets of harness. There may possibly be a cow on the 
premises, though not likely to be, as she would be killed and 
eaten the first time her improvident owner ran short of pro- 
visions. There are dogs, however, and in proportion as the 
metis is poor, the number of canines increases. 

The dwelling itself, except in the mid-winter months, pre- 
sents an appearance of decay. The plaster placed in the in- 
terstices of the logs crumbles under the action of the elements, 
and falls about the foundation of the building in muddy heaps, 
The thatch or clapboards of the roof are loosened in places, 
and are certain not to be repaired until the next winter. In- 
ternally the house is one single apartment ; occasionally, in 



4^ THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the better class, though rarely, two apartments. The floor is 
of planks sawed or hewed by hand ; the ceiling, if there is 
any, of the same material. In one corner is the only bed, a 
narrow couch, painted, generally, an ultra-marine blue, or a 
vivid sea-green. An open fire-place occupies one end of the 
apartment, with the chimney within the walls. A table, one 
or two chairs, a few wooden trunks or boxes — doing duty with 
this people everywhere as table, chair, clothes-press, and cup- 
board — and a dresser, constitute the furniture. About the 
walls somewhere, more especially over the bed, hang colored 
prints of the Virgin, the sacred heart, etc., together with a 
rosary. It may be that the daughter of the house — and there 
always is a daughter — has come under the influence of a con- 
vent for a season, and can read ; perhaps write. In that 
event, there is a copy of the " Lives of the Saints " on a 
bracket ; and, it may be, a few periodicals. For the rest, the 
apartment is cheerless and uninviting. It may be clean, but 
the chances are that it is not. That peculiar aroma, too, which 
pervades all inhabited chambers, here becomes often aggres- 
sive, and, as it were, wrestles with the visitor for the mastery. 
In this apartment the family herd — a squaw mother often, 
and children so numerous and dirty as to be a wonder to 
behold. During the day its utter inefiiciency to adequately 
accommodate the numbers it shelters is partially concealed, 
from the fact that they are seldom all in at one time. But on 
the approach of night, when the dusky brood are all housed, 
tlie question of where they are to sleep becomes startlingly 
prominent. 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 4/ 

We remember avcII our first experience in the solution of 
this difficulty. Caught one stormy winter's evening, on the 
banks of a northern river, without preparations for camping, 
our uncivilized guide halted before the door of a small cabin, 
and asked permission to remain over-night. Hospitality being 
one of the savage virtues, the request was readily granted. 
After a meagre supper of fish without salt, and a post-prandial 
smoke, we began to look about for a couch for the night. 
Nothing was visible save one narrow bed, in Avhich our 
host and his swarthy consort soon retired. Now, in ad- 
dition to ourselves and guide, there were thirteen of the 
family, composed of children, male and female, from infancy 
to mature age. Where were they all to sleep ? We thought 
of a possible loft ; but there was no ceiling. Finally, we were 
about making preparations to sit before the fire all night 
when, from trunks and bo.xes were produced blankets and 
robes, and a shake-down made on the floor, into which we 
were directed to crawl. Scarcely had we done so, when our 
bed began to widen, and in a few minutes extended from wall 
to wall. Soon we found ourselves the central figure in a 
closely-packed bed of thirteen, filled promiscuously with males 
and females. We thought involuntarily of the great bed of 
Ware and its thirty occupants. 

The occupations of the half-breed, when not engaged as 
voyagcur * or agriculturist, are limited to fishing in the stream 

The term " voyagew," as used in the North, is not necessarily restricted 
to boatmen or canoe-men, but is also applied to all persons connected with 
the fur trade as freighters, guides, hunters, trappers, etc. 



48 THE GREA T FUR LAiYD. 

near his residence, hunting for small game, tlie care of his 
ponies, and a round of social visits to his neighbors. The 
two former are followed only to the extent of furnishing a 
supply of food for the day, to-morrow being left to care for 
itself. The idea of accumulating supplies of provisions in 
advance, save in the late fall, never apparently enters the 
half-breed mind. If he fails to secure sufificient game or fish 
for the day's provision, he simply goes without his dinner ; 
nor do frequent privations of this sort seem to impress upon 
his volatile mind the policy of reserving of present excess for 
future scarcity. But, should he by some fortuitous circum- 
stance become possessed of a surplus of salable provision, its 
ownership becomes a consuming flame to him until disposed 
of. The idea of keeping any thing which he can sell is an 
absurdity which his intellect cannot grasp. 

It is in the winter season, when the cold has put an end to 
their labors for the most part, and the cares of existence are 
lightened by reason of advances made them upon the work of 
the approaching season, or the fair supply of provisions laid 
by from the last, that the social life of the half-breeds may be 
said to be at its highest. It is then that they marry and are 
given in marriage ; that feasting, dancing, and merry-makings 
of all descriptions, do much abound. Every log-house then 
echoes to the violin of some moccasined and straight-haired 
Paganini, who after years of sedulous practice has attained a 
certain ghastly facility of execudon. 

It is rumored weekly that, at the residence of Baptiste, or 
Pascal, or Antoine, there will be given a dance, and the rumor 



I b 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 49 

is accepted as a general invitation. The young bucks of the 
neighborhood array themselves in the bewildering apparel 
which obtains upon occasions of this nature : a blue-cloth 
capote, with brass buttons ; black or drab corduroy trousers, 
the aesthetic effect of which is destroyed by a variegated sash, 
with fringed ends pendent about the knees ; moccasins, and a 
fur cap with gaudy tassel. The young maidens apparel them- 
selves in sombre prints or woolen stuffs, but with bright- 
colored shawls about their shoulders. This, with a false lustre 
upon their black locks, from copious applications of grease, is 
all that is showy about them. The dances are reels and 
square-dances. When they begin, however, they continue for 
days at a time ; the younger people occupying the night, and 
the older ones the day, repairing home to rest, and then re- 
turning. Custom makes it obligatory upon the entertainers 
to furnish food and liquor for the dancers, and there is a vast 
consumption of both. It frequently happens that, from the 
number of participants, and the long continuance of the 
dance, the amount of supplies demanded reduces the host to 
poverty. We have known repeated instances where at one 
ball, continuing three or four days, the entire winter's provis- 
ion for a family was consumed, and ponies were sold to pay 
for the liquor. Yet, the improvident half-breed thinks noth- 
ing of it, and gives the ball, well knowing the result. He 
wants either a feast or a famine. If he spends his substance 
for others, however, he retaliates by haunting all the festivities 
of his neighbors during the entire winter. 

At home, when not engaged in dancing and feasting, or 
3 



50 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

taken up with the sordid and petty cares of his existence, the 
half-breed smokes and drinks tea. His consumption of tobacco 
is ceaseless, and his libations of tea would do no discredit to 
John Chinaman. If he hires out by the day to labor, he 
spends ten minutes of each hour in filling and lighting his 
pipe ; if he is voyaging, he halts at every headland or wooded 
promontory to put his kettle on and drink tea. Of a winter's 
day he curls up by his neighbor's fire, and smokes and i elates 
his adventures. His life has run in a limited channel, but he 
knows every point in its course. Virtues may have abounded 
in it, but cakes and ale have much more abounded. But we 
may learn from it that many admirable things are consonant 
with an entire ignorance of books. 

When the ploughing is done in the spring-time, and the 
seed in the ground, the half-breed agriculturist experiences a 
yearning for the chase, or goes to fulfill his engagement as 
voyageur. If the former, the fractured wooden carts are bound 
up with rawhide thongs, the broken-spirited ponies coaxed into 
a semblance of life and vigor, the dusky progeny packed in 
with boxes and blankets, the house locked up, and the migra- 
tory family set forth for the prairie or stream. With the first 
pitching of the wigwam the manners and customs of civilized 
life cease, and the half-breed assumes the habits of a savage. 
He hunts for the pot ; for this spring-time chase is simply to 
obtain daily subsistence while his meagre crops mature. His 
tent is encountered in the usual Indian haunts — by the side of 
a stream or lake, or half hidden in some timber-bluff on the 
prairie. He has become a nomad pure and simple. But, 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 5 I 

when the harvest-time approaches, he returns again to his 
miniature farm. In a negligent manner his crop is gathered 
and thrashed. Reserving barely sufficient for the winter's 
needs, the remainder is sold, and with the proceeds an outfit 
for the long fall hunt is purchased. Perhaps, if they can be 
obtained on credit, a few goods are selected for trade with his 
savage brethren. Again, with his family, he seeks the prairie 
and stream, and hunts for his winter's food, trading betimes 
for such furs as may yield a profit. Later in the fall he returns 
to his winter's residence, adds a few repairs to its leaky roof, 
plasters up the interstices in its log walls, and settles down to 
hibernal monotony and the dance. 

If the half-breed is a voyageu)- or guide, the task of culti- 
vating the garden-plot is left to the members of his family, if 
he have one, the season of his service being the summer and 
fall months. For the most part, however, little or no planting 
is done by this class. They rely for support on a system of 
advances, which obtains with the trading corporations of the 
wilderness. Engagements are generally made in the month of 
December for a certain trip or amount of service, either boat- 
ing or land freighting, to be performed during the ensuing 
season. A small advance is made the voyageur at that time, 
to bind the bargain, as it were. When the meal becomes low 
in the measure and the wine gone from the jar, he repairs to 
his employers, and at times receives small advances. If he is 
economical — which he seldom or never is — these advances may 
eke him out a scanty subsistence until spring and labor arrive. 
The probabilities are, however, that he is prodigal, has his 



52 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

feast, and then lives, in want and squalor, upon any refuse 
that may come to hand. Nevertheless, he accepts the situation 
as a matter of course, and is light-hearted through it all. At 
the opening of navigation he receives another advance, which 
is quickly spent ; then takes his place on the benches of an 
inland boat or canoe, pulls an oar hundreds of miles into the 
interior, and crosses long portages with the huge packages of 
the cargo strapped to his back. Over vast and trackless wil- 
dernesses echoes his monotonous boat-song ; on many a bleak 
promontory shine his camp-fires ; and isolated posts waken 
into life and joy for one day in the year at his coming. His 
journey made, and the cargoes exchanged with boats from yet 
farther inland, or distributed at the numerous forts on the way, 
the voyageur returns home again, receives the remnant of his 
wages, to be dissipated in the shortest possible time ; then 
relapses into a condition of uncertain sparring with destiny 
for diurnal sustenance. 

If he be freighter, the life is essentially the same : merely 
exchanging the boat for the wooden carts, creaking their way 
in long lines over the plains, like a caravan in the desert. His 
days are spent in toil, his nights in fighting stinging insects, or 
shivering in the cold and wet. But his good-nature never 
tires ; his pipe is smoked in quiet satisfaction under all cir- 
cumstances, and no occasion is too serious to prevent the per- 
petration of his practical joke. 

The tastes of the half-breed are of a decided sort, and 
essentially like those of other mixed races. In apparel, he is 
fond of color, and, in most instances, exhibits good taste in 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 53 

the combinations he effects. Ornaments, too, are held in great 
favor, quality not being so much sought for as quantity. In 
this regard, however, there is a marked decadence from the 
extravagant ornamentation of former days. We remember 
when the arrival of the plain-hunters at our border-posts was 
the signal of a dress-parade which, if lacking in artistic merit, 
amply atoned by its rainbow hues and constellations of tawdry 
jewelry. Ofttimes the entire profits of a season's trade would 
be invested in highly-colored wearing-apparel and cheap 
jewelry, in which the hunter decked his tawny family and. him- 
self, and paraded the adjoining camps, with all the pride of a 
Hottentot chief. It was a brave and pleasant show, neverthe- 
less, to see these athletic men and supple and graceful women, 
arrayed in holiday attire, galloping swiftly and lightly over 
the green prairies. Unfortunately, after this parade of bravery, 
the demon of thirst would seize them, and, if liquor was 
attainable, the rivalry of dress was succeeded by a rivalry of 
drink, ending in a low debauch ; for, in his tastes and appe- 
tites, our half-brother follows the maternal root. 

The religion of the half-breed is the creed of superstition. 
Roman Catholic in the main, he adds to its formulas a shadowy 
belief in the Great Spirit. He acknowledges a purgatory, yet 
fondly hopes that in the next world human shades will hunt 
the shades of buffalo and other animals which have lived here. 
When he dies, he hopes to be carried to the bosom of the 
saints ; yet he feels that his shade will linger four nights round 
the place of his decease ere taking its flight to the village of 
the dead. He believes in signs and omens to some extent, and 



54 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

ties a certain number of feathers to his horse's tail, or paints 
rude emblems on his bark canoe, to increase their speed. 
Nevertheless, he yields implicit obedience to his priest, and 
obeys, in his volatile way, the traditions of his Church ; but, 
over all, cherishes a dim faith in the shades of shadow-land. 



THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 



55 




CHAPTER IV. 



THE HUDSON S BAY COMPANY. 



I "'OR more than two centuries British North America has 
■*^ been occupied by the Hudson's Bay Company, which has 
turned the country to the best account possible by utilizing the 
sole portion of its wealth which, on account of the barbarous 
nature of the region and its almost unparalleled completeness 
of isolation, could be profitably exported. This is its furs. 
At various periods attempts have been made to give an im- 
petus to the pursuit of other branches of industry by the 
formation of subordinate companies ; but, like the dwellings 
of the region, such institutions have hitherto held their exist- 
ence by a frail tenure, amounting almost to an artificial life. 
The fur-trade alone possesses strong vitality. And although 
this branch of industry, in its relations to the few small settle- 
ments of the country, has been much and most ignorantly 
abused by one-sided reasoners, of late years, as the all-de- 
vouring monster which monopolizes the resources of the terri- 
tory, yet the fairer course would be to describe it as the motive 
spring which gives life to anything in the way of business 
existing there. Furs compose the only species of merchandise 
in the country the export of which is remunerative, and, with- 
out them, even what market exists for other commodities 



THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 57 

would speedily disappear. In fact, the influence of the trade 
permeates all classes ; everybody talks fur, and every avail- 
able position in the accessible parts of the territory is seized 
upon by free-traders for the collection of peltries. But while 
many are gathered in this way, and traders speedily grow 
rich, their furs form scarcely a drop in the bucket when com- 
pared to the vast collections of the Hudson's Bay Company. 
It is only a vast corporation, possessed of unlimited means, 
long experience, and immense facilities for transportation, 
that can hope to compete with this last great monopoly. 

It is, of course, to be expected that, as the wave of popu- 
lation rolls westward, the agricultural and other latent re- 
sources possessed by the immense territory will be developed, 
and the fortunes of the dwellers in that remote region no 
longer depend solely upon the success of the warfare main- 
tained by the Indian against the wild beasts of the North ; 
but it is undeniable that, until the present decade, the trade 
which from a single department alone brings annually to the 
English market an average value of ;^ 150,000 in furs, and in 
the aggregate furnishes the world with three-fourths of its pel- 
tries, has presented the only means of commercially benefiting 
the aboriginal tribes, or of turning to profitable account the 
inaccessible regions over which its operations extend. 

The Hudson's Bay Company is a wheel within a wheel, 
consisting of the company proper, which furnishes the capital 
stock, and the partnership of the Fur Trade, which is em- 
ployed to carry out the actual workings of the business. 

Under the charter, the supreme control of its affairs is vested 
3' 



58 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

in a Board consisting of a Governor, Deputy Governor and 
Committee of five Directors, all annually chosen by the 
stockholders at a meeting held each November at the compa- 
ny's house in London. These functionaries delegate their 
authority to an officer resident in their American possessions, 
called the Governor-in-chief of Rupert's Land, who acts as 
their representative. His commission extends over all their 
colonial possessions, and his tenure of office is unlimited as 
regards time. Sir George Simpson, the Arctic explorer, in 
company with Dease, was the first person appointed to fill 
this high office, which was instituted immediately after the 
coalition of the Hudson's Bay and Northwest Companies in 
1 82 1. Previous to that date the various districts had been 
ruled by numerous petty officers, subject to no efficient control, 
and practically answerable to none for abuse of power. 

The authority of the Governor-in-chief is supreme, except 
during the session of his council, which is held once a year, 
and continues its formal sittings for two or three days. The 
Governor is president or chairman of this council, at which 
he represents the interests of the Board of Directors in Eng- 
land. It is called the " Council for the Northern Department 
of Rupert's Land," yet it assumes a general authority over all 
other departments, and, to quote the words of the preamble to 
its official minutes, it convenes " for the purpose of establish- 
ing rules and regulations for conducting the business of said 
department, and in order to investigate the trade of the past 
year." 

As before stated, a council for the Northern department 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 59 

is held every year, and at it the Governor-in-chief is invaria- 
bly present ; but he, also, from time to time, has held coun- 
cils for other departments, though his usual plan is to leave 
the details to be managed by competent officials on the spot, 
and, by correspondence, exercise a general jurisdiction over the 
trade. His council is composed of the highest rank of officers 
in the service, called Chief Factors, whose duty and right is to 
sit at its meetings whenever their attendance is practicable. 
Members of the second rank of commissioned officers, called 
Chief Traders, when they can arrange to be present, are also 
requested to sit in the council, which is held with closed doors, 
and when so invited, the traders are permitted to debate and 
vote equally with the factors. The chief factors and chief 
traders together constitute the partnership in what is called 
the " Fur Trade." From this the profits of the Hudson's 
Bay Company may be said to be entirely derived ; it con- 
stitutes the means by which the company avails itself of the 
right to trade, which it possesses in its territories. Vacan- 
cies in its ranks are immediately . filled up as they occur 
from the death or retirement of its members, the qualification 
necessary to obtain the commission being a majority of the 
votes of all the chief factors. The candidates, for a factor- 
ship are necessarily traders, while those for a vacant trader- 
ship are from the ranks of salaried clerks, seldom of less than 
fourteen years' standing in the service. 

The members of the Fur Trade, also called " Wintering 
Partners," furnish none of the capital stock, and receive their 
commissions merely as the reward of long and faithful service. 



OO THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Their pay is a definite number of shares of stock, never ex- 
ceeding a certain limit. Of these, a chief factor possesses two, 
and a chief trader one, so that their emoluments are directly 
affected by the fluctuations of the trade equally with those of 
other stockholders. While the Fur Trade is recognized as a 
partnership by the company, yet it is allowed no distinct or- 
ganization. No annual election of officers forming anything 
like the company's London Board takes place among the part- 
ners of the Fur Trade, who, scattered over the vast territories 
of the company, could not, under existing circumstances, take 
united action in any matter, how nearly soever it might affect 
their corporate interests. The only approximation to a com- 
mon action which exists is afforded by the meeting of the 
annual council, at which all factors within practicable distance 
are entitled, and traders, under similar circumstances, invited 
to attend. The partners in the Fur Trade are, moreover, 
allowed no representative at the company's house in London. 
An annual dispatch, bearing the signatures of the Board, and 
treating of the different matters of interest then pending in 
connection with the company's affairs, is addressed each year 
to the council of the Northern Department, and is answered by 
its president. But this constitutes the sole occasion in which 
the company as a body approaches the Fur Trade as a body in 
the whole course of their business. On the other hand, the 
Board in London has a special representative in the Fur Trade 
in the person of the Governor-in-chief. He is president of all 
coiincils of officers held in the country, and there is no in- 
stance of his being outvoted by any such body. 



THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 6l 

Under these circumstances it is scarcely to be wondered 
at that an occasional murmur arises from the partners in the 
Fur Trade, when a series of unfortunate years has brought 
them but little remuneration. Still, upon the whole, the rela- 
tions of the two bodies are harmonious, and the wintering 
partner is well paid for his labor. With the exception of 
personal clothing the company furnishes everything, even to 
the paid clerk and the men under him. 

The partners in the Fur Trade hold their rights as a body, 
with respect to the stockholders of the company, in virtue of 
a deed-poll, dated 1834, under which the commissions to in- 
dividuals are issued. These commissions, held from the 
company, entitle the officers holding them to their share in 
the profits and all the other privileges they enjoy.* 

The vast operations of the company, extending over so 
great an extent of territory, with establishments remotely con- 
nected, and at times only accessible by the accident of favor- 
able stages of water, demand an army of employes, in each of 
whom the prosecution of its peculiar business necessitates 
certain well-defined mental and physical characteristics, and 
a rigid training in the duties pertaining to his situation. No 
mere neophyte assumes even a minor command in the com- 
pany's affairs ; and the fortunate winner of a higher station 
must invariably be well qualified for his place by long identi- 
fication with its active duties as well as traditions. Although 
itself an entirely English corporation, its officers in the fur 

* For most of the information contained in the foregoing pages of 
this chapter, the author is indebted to the vakiable work on " Red River," 
by J. J. Hargrave, F. R. G. S. 



62 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

country are nearly all natives of Scotland and the Orkneys. 
More than one consideration, probably, contributed its 
weight in the selection of this nationality as its working 
representatives, viz., their proverbial shrewdness and propen- 
sity for barter ; their generally vigorous physique and love of 
adventurous life ; a steady perseverance in the attainment of 
an end ; close economy, and the giving and receiving of the 
last half-penny in trade ; and, above all, a certain Presbyte 
rian honesty begotten of the Established Kirk. 

Successful applicants for ]:)lace in the company's service — 
a service highly esteemed and much sought after in " pla- 
cing," the youth of the well-to-do Scotch boiirgcoisc — are en- 
listed invariably at an early age — generally from sixteen to 
eighteen — having first passed a rigid scrutiny as regards educa- 
tional attainments, moral character, and, above all, physical 
build ; and having, moreover, tendered such letters of recom- 
mendation as could not well fail of success. The nominal 
term of enlistment is five years, although the more direct un- 
derstanding is that the applicant shall devote his life to the 
trade — an event which happens in nearly every instance, the 
style of living being calculated to unfit him for active duty in 
any other vocation. With the arrival of the annual requisi- 
tion for additional help from the fur country, the accepted 
applicant is notified to hold himself in readiness, and sails for 
York Factory, on the Bay coast, by return packet. With his 
-departure his salary begins. The magnificent sum of ^20 
per annum is his, together with rations, quarters, etc., and 
personal clothing from the company's shops at cost and ten 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 63 

per cent. As this latter expenditure is the only one he is 
obliged to make, or, indeed, can well be tempted to indulge 
in, the bulk of his yearly stipend remains from year to year in 
the hands of his employer at compound interest. 

Arrived at York Factory, he is generally sent to pass the 
first five or ten years of his apprenticeship in the extreme 
northern districts of Mackenzie River and Athabaska. This 
is done that he may at once be cut off from anything having 
a tendency to distract him from his duties ; in order, also, to 
be drilled in the practical working of the Indian trade ; and 
because of an established rule in the service which starts the 
apprentice at isolated posts in remote districts, bringing him 
up finally in the great depot forts on the borders of civiliza- 
tion, thus acquainting him with every duty pertinent to the 
trade. The occupations of his first years are those of sales- 
man behind the counter in the trading-shop, and an occa- 
sional trip with the half-breed traders attached to the post to 
the various Indian camps in the vicinity for the barter of 
goods for peltries. The cultivation of the Spartan virtue of 
truth also obtains, no misrepresentations being permitted in 
order to effect sales in that service. In the discharge of such 
minor duties a few years glide uneventfully away, and the 
next advancement brings him to the accountant's office. 

Upon the assumption of this position he passes in the race 
for promotion another class of a])prentices, probably enlisted 
at the same date as himself, known as " postmasters." These 
are generally natives of the country, half-breeds of the better 
class for the most part, yet lacking the requisite education to 



04 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

successfully compete with the Scotch importations. They are 
older men, as a rule, and are assigned the duty of superintend- 
ing the laboring men, of whom each post has its complement, 
and have, in fact, a general supervision of the rougher details 
of the trade ; but are entitled, nevertheless, to the title of com- 
pany's gentlemen, as distinguishing them from the lov/er 
order of employes entirely outside the line of promotion. 
The advancement of a postmaster is necessarily slow, and 
they seldom attain a position higher than that of clerk in 
charge of a small post, although instances are on record where 
high place has been reached, and filled with much credit and 
pecuniary profit. 

At the accountant's desk the apprentice — now known as a 
clerk- — remains generally until fourteen years of service have 
elapsed, unless placed in charge of a fort, other than a depot, 
as chief clerk. During this period he has been, in most in- 
stances, gradually nearing the great forts forming the depots 
of supplies and forwarding, or the headquarters of a district, 
by a series of transfers from the unimportant and remote 
posts whence he started to those still larger and more con- 
tiguous to the desired centre. His salary, too, has increased 
from ^20 to ^100. He has lived entirely in the mess-rooms 
of the posts at which he resided ; his associations have beeji 
with his elders and superiors in the ranks of the service ; his 
conversation for years has been for the most part upon sub- 
jects relative to the trade ; its traditions have become familiar 
to him, its routine almost a second nature ; his habits of life 
are fixed, and sit so easily upon him as to suggest no desire 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 65 

for change ; in short, he has fallen so completely into the 
groove, become so much a part of the machinery of the trade, 
and so totally unacquainted with the requirements of any 
other business, as to render a change both impolitic and im- 
possible. His ambition points but one way — to a higher rank 
in the service he has chosen. He pictures to himself, doubt- 
less, in a vague and misty way, a certain far-off day when, 
with the accumulations of years, he will return to the world ; 
never thinking that the world he will find will prove so 
strange and bizarre that a cursory glance will frighten him 
back to his solitudes again. 

At the expiration of fourteen years of service, if a vacancy 
occur, the clerk steps from the ranks of salaried employes into 
the partnership of the Fur Trade, and assumes the title of chief 
trader. Upon the assumption of this dignity, in place of a 
yearly stipend, his emoluments take the form of ^.pro rata of 
the annual profits of the trade, and he is appointed to the 
command of some important post. Here his duties are a gen- 
eral oversight of the business immediately connected with the 
establishment and vicinity. The thorough practical knowledge 
of all the petty details of the business, acquired in the years 
of his previous service, enable him to judge of their correct 
performance by those now under him. He has now, also, an 
opportunity of devising new methods of increasing the trade, 
of developing pet projects previously conceived, and of adding 
proportionately to his own share of profit. The field opened 
before him is sufficiently wide for the employment of all his 
energies, and the desire to rival his compeers is necessarily 



66 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Strong. He still retains in his new position the usual allow- 
ances of food, quarters, etc., from the company, as in the days 
of his clerkship ; but the feeling that his pecuniary emolu- 
ments in a measure depend upon his own energies, adds new 
life and vigor to his movements. He becomes alert, restless, 
active, and indulges in much speculation relative to the in- 
crease of trade, until death or retirement opens the way for 
entrance into the ranks of chief factors — the highest class of 
officials known to the service. 

In the exercise of the functions of this office he assumes 
control of a district — in many instances as large as a European 
kingdom — with headquarters at the largest fort within its limits, 
and a general supervision over all other posts. He directs the 
course of trade, erects new establishments, orders the necessary 
outfits for the year, suggests needed reforms to the council, 
and in his capacity as chief magistrate of his principality, 
rules supreme. He has attained the summit of the ladder, with 
the exception perhaps of governorship, and can rest secure. 
The accumulations of many years, which he has had little op- 
portunity of spending, have by this time placed him beyond 
the reach of pecuniary care, and he finally resigns upon half 
pay, to visit the scenes of his youth for a season, then to return 
and pass the remainder of his days in the far settlements of 
the isolated country where his life has been spent. 

As a man, the wintering partner is eminently social, and 
given to a generous hospitality. His years of isolation have 
only served to render him the more gregarious when opportu- 
nity presents. He throws his doors open to the congenial 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 6/ 

Stranger, setting apart a room for his use, ordering an addi- 
tional cover at table, giving instructions to the groom relative 
to the free use of the favorite cob by his temporary guest, and 
considering all the honor as done to himself. Physically ro- 
bust, he delights in athletic sports, in pedestrian excursions, 
in boating, in equestrian feats, and, when occasion presents, in 
prolonged convivialities with his old associates. As a family 
man, he is exemplary. It has happened that, rendered lone- 
some by his isolated position and cut off from society, in the 
days of his clerkship he has petitioned the Governor for the 
privilege of marriage ; and, gaining consent, has taken to wife 
a daughter of the land. If matrimonial desire has overtaken 
him further on, however, and when more advanced in rank and 
means, he has probably ordered a wife from the House in Lon- 
don, and having received her by return packet, married out of 
hand. And to the credit of the wintering partner be it said, 
that he generally becomes a model Benedict, although, in some 
instances, had he been personally present, his selection would 
have been different. We recall a case of this kind, where the 
party having received and married his wife, receipted to the 
House for her something in this style : " Received one wife in 
fair condition. Hope she will prove good, though she is cer- 
tainly a very rum one to look at ! " 

Generally speaking, Manitoba is selected as a place of resi- 
dence by servants of the company who have passed their lives 
in the service. Many of the officers, whose desire to return 
to their native country has withered through lapse of time and 
the influence of family ties formed in the country, have bought 



68 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

land and settled down on it for life, forming among themselves 
the aristocracy of the wilderness. Owning the handsomest 
residences in the province, social by nature, and supplied with 
abundant means, they are given to a generous hospitality. 
The latch-string is always out to the stranger, and they delight 
in meeting upon each other's hearthstones and recounting the 
wild life of the past. 

Such are the relations of master and man in the company's 
service, and the routine order of advancement which obtains 
in every instance. And had the territories of the company 
continued as isolated and inaccessible as they have been 
hitherto regarded, there is no reason to doubt that the statu 
quo of employed and employer would have remained un- 
changed till the end of the chapter. It has happened, how- 
ever, that the transfer of the country to Canada, at the begin- 
ning of the present decade, has attracted a considerable tide 
of immigration to the new Province of Manitoba, and on up 
the fertile belt of the Saskatchewan. And while the northern 
part of North America is still as much in the possession of the 
company as ever, yet the rapid settlement and development of 
the southern borders of the territory, and the consequent oppor- 
tunities for speculation and high wages, have served to dissi- 
pate the quiet content of the company's officers. Within the 
last decade some of them have left the service and engaged 
with free fur-trading firms, prosecuting business in opposition 
to the company, or have carried on the fur-trade on their 
own account. Especially has this been the case with the 
salaried clerks, upon whom the company rely to fill the 



THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 69 

vacancies in the Fur Trade. The factors and traders still re- 
tain their positions from the fact of receiving their pay from 
the profits of the whole trade, which, in the aggregate, make 
up a higher salary than they could hope to obtain elsewhere. 
The average income of the two ranks of officers in the Fur 
Trade is, for a trader $2,500, and for a factor $5,000, always 
including in addition the support of himself and family. 
Place this sum at compound interest annually, and the rapid- 
ity with which it accumulates will be readily seen. Half pay 
is only given for a term of five years after leaving the service. 

With the clerk of five or ten years' standing, however, it is 
different. He could expect for years only a nominal annual 
salary, the equal of which he can command for one or two 
months' labor under the new order of things, if once free 
from the service. His prospects of accumulating a com- 
petency for the future, outside the ranks of the company, 
though not so absolutely certain as within, are yet sufficiently 
promising ; so he leaves. Under this condition of things, 
the company find themselves driven to alter, in some measure, 
their time-honored programme, and increase the annual sti- 
pends of clerks and apprentices to a nearer approximation 
with salaries paid that class in civilized life. Clerks who have 
•withdrawn from the service are invited to return under new 
rates, the regular line of promotion being preserved as before. 

The extent of territory over which the Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany carries on its trade, and throughout which depots and 
forts are established, is very great. As the crow flies, the 
distance between Fort Vancouver, on the Oregon, and Fort 



70 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Confidence, on Bear Lake, exceeds 1350 geographical miles, 
and the space between the company's posts on the Labrador 
coast, or their station at Sault Ste. Marie, and Fort Simpson, 
on the Pacific, measures more than 2500 miles. The area of 
country under its immediate influence is about four and a half 
million square miles, or more than one-third greater than the 
whole extent of Europe. This vast hunting country is every- 
where sprinkled over with lakes, and in all directions inter- 
sected by rivers and lesser streams, abounding with edible 
fish. East of the Rocky Mountains are vast prairies over 
which roams the bison, lord of the plains ; while west of these 
mountains the land in densely timbered. The most northerly 
station, east of the Rocky Mountains, is on the Mackenzie 
River, within the Arctic circle ; so terribly intense is the cold 
at this point that axes tempered specially can alone be used 
for cutting and splitting wood, ordinary hatchets breaking as 
though made of glass. West of the Rockies, the most north- 
ernly station is Fort Simpson, situated near the Sitka River, 
the boundary between Alaska and British Columbia. 
Throughout this vast extent of territory, a regular com- 
munication is kept up between the Governor and the numer- 
ous scattered posts, and supplies are forwarded to all the dis- 
tricts with a regularity and exactness truly wonderful. 

The chartered territories and circuit of commercial rela- 
tions of the Hudson's Bay Company are divided into vast sec- 
tions, named the Northern, Southern, Montreal and Western 
departments. Of these the Northern department is situated 
between Hudson's Bay and the Rocky Mountains ; the South- 



THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 7 1 

ern, between James' Bay and Canada, comprehending, also, 
East Main, on the eastern coast of Hudson's Bay. The Mon- 
treal department comprehends the extent of the business in 
the Canadas, while the Western comprises the regions west 
from the Rocky Mountains. The depots to which supplies 
from the civilized world are periodically sent, and which form 
the keys of these various sections, are York Factory, in the 
Northern department ; Moose Factory, in the Southern ; Mon- 
treal, in the Canadas, and Victoria, Vancouver's Island, in the 
West. In the Northern department, which includes the grand 
bulk of the chartered territories, in which alone, until recently, 
the burden of government fell upon the company, the most 
important interests of the business are concentrated. Its vast 
extent necessitates a depot for the " inland districts," which 
exists at Norway House, on Lake Winnipeg ; and many causes 
have combined to render Fort Garry, in which are stored the 
goods passing over the United States route, the centre of 
business, and a large depot for the " plain districts;." It is also 
the residence of the Governor-in-chief, and the headquarters 
of the civil service of the company, while York Factory, on 
Hudson's Bay, is the headquarters of the accountants' depart- 
ment. 

These four departments are again divided into smaller por- 
tions called districts, of which there are fifty-three, and each 
of which is under the direction of a superintending officer. 
These again are sub-divided into one hundred and fifty-two 
minor establishments, forts, posts, and outposts. There is 
connected with each district a depot to which all the supplies 



72 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

for the district are forwarded periodically, and to which all the 
furs and produce from the forts are sent to be shipped to 
England. Some of the depot forts have a complement of 
thirty or forty men, mechanics, laborers, servants, etc.; but 
most of them have only ten, five, four, or even two, besides the 
superintending officer. As in most instances a space of forest 
or plain, varying from fifty to three hundred miles in length, 
intervenes between each of these establishments, and the in- 
habitants have only the society of each other, some idea may 
be formed of the solitary lives led by many of the company's 
servants. But every man knows his place and his work; the 
laws regulating their duties are clearly defined and well under- 
stood, and are enforced with a strictness and rigor truly mili- 
tary or naval. Hence the harmonious working of the whole 
extensive and complicated machinery, and the wonderful 
financial results of its operations. 

The term fort, as applied to the trading-posts of the Fur 
Land, is strictly applicable to but two ; most of them do not 
merit the name. The only two in the country that are real, 
bona-fide forts, are Upper and Lower Fort Garry, in the 
Province of Manitoba. The others are merely half-a-dozen 
frame buildings defended by wooden pickets or stockades ; 
and a few, where the Indians are quiet and harmless, are en- 
tirely destitute of defence of any kind. Upper Fort Garry, 
as the residence of the Governor, and the central post of 
the Northern department, may be considered the most im- 
portant fort of the company. Its business consists of trading 
goods for cash, furs, or country produce ; of forwarding the 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. Jl 

supplies for certain large districts to their destination in the 
interior, and of banking and transacting a variety of business 
with the inhabitants of the settlement round about. The 
means by which these affairs are carried on consist of a bonded 
warehouse, a sale-shop, a general office, and sundry stores for 
pemmican and other articles of a special nature. Each of 
these departments is furnished with its staff of clerks, ware- 
house-men and laborers. 

Lower Fort Garry, more commonly called the Stone 
Fort, in allusion to the material of which its houses are 
constructed, is perhaps a better sample of the larger 
posts of the company than any within the ordinary range 
of travel. It is situated on the west bank of the Red 
River of the North, about twenty miles from the foot of 
Lake Winnipeg. The banks in this locality are very high, 
and, in consequence, the fort is favorably situated for the 
avoidance of floods during periods of inundation, by no 
means of infrequent occurrence. The business of the estab- 
lishment, which is one of the subordinate posts of the Red 
River district, consists of farming, retail dealing, and boat- 
freighting. At this post, during the summer months, boat- 
brigades are outfitted for the trip to York Factory and other 
posts inland. The buildings consist of officers' and servants' 
dwellings, shops and stores. These are all inclosed within a 
stone wall, embracing an area of about one and a half acre, 
and pierced through its entire circuit with a tier of loop- 
holes. 

Entering through the huge gateway pierced in the centre 
4 



74 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

of the east wall, facing the river, the first view is of the res- 
idence of the chief trader in command, and also of the 
clerks and upper class of employes under his charge. It is a 
long two-story stone building, with a broad piazza encircling 
it on three sides. A square plot of green sward surrounding 
it is fenced in with neat railing, and kept in extremely good 
order. A broad gravel walk leads from the gateway to the 
piazza. Huge shade trees border it, and beds of waving and 
fragrant flowers load the business air with their perfume. In 
this building the mess of the chief and his subordinates is 
held. Its hospitalities are extended in good old English 
style. A room is set apart for the use of the transient guest, 
who is free to come and go as he lists. 

With the exception of the residence of the chief trader 
in charge, the buildings of the fort follow the course of the 
walls, and, facing inward, form a hollow square. Following 
this order, immediately at the left of the gateway is the trad- 
ing-store, devoted solely to the sale of goods. A large stone 
structure of three stories, it has within its walls nearly every 
article used in that climate. The sales-room is a square 
apartment, with no attempt at ornament, no plaster, the ceil- 
ing merely the joists and flooring of the second flat, thickly 
studded with nails and hooks, from which are suspended 
various articles of trade. Along the side walls are box 
shelves, nearly two feet deep. On the floor within the 
counter are piled bales of goods, bundles of prints, hardware, 
etc. ; and this space within the counter comprises almost the 
■ entire room. A small area is railed off near the door, suffi- 



THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 



75 




76 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

ciently large to hold twenty standing customers. When this 
is filled, the remaining patrons must await their turn in the 
courtyard; and it is not at all an unusual sight to see from 
fifty to one hundred people standing quietly about outside 
until their time comes to be served. The best goods of all 
manufactures alone are sold here. No shoddy or inferior 
goods are ever imported or sold by the company. Every- 
thing is purchased direct from producers, and of a stipulated 
quality. The principal articles of trade are tea, sugar, calico, 
blankets, ammunition, fishing-gear, and a kind of cloth, very 
thick and resembling blanketing, called duffle. Coffee is 
rarely sold, and green tea is almost unknown, the black only 
being used. Raw spirits are sold to a large extent in the 
posts immediately contiguous to settlements. In former 
times the sale of this latter article was permitted only upon 
two days of the year. On Christmas and the Queen's birth- 
day each head of a family was permitted to purchase from 
the stores of the company, upon an order countersigned by 
the Governor, one pint of spirits. In the event of Spirits 
being required for medicinal purposes, the signature of both 
Governor and attending physician were necessary. 

Amidst this stock of merchandise, composed in so great 
a part of staple articles, may be found, nevertheless, an as- 
sortment of dress goods and gewgaws over a century old — 
old-time ruffs, stomachers, caps and what not; garments of 
antique cut and trim, articles of vertu, and apparel long since 
out of vogue are mixed up in a heterogeneous mass. What 
a day of delights and surprises would it prove to the ladies 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. J "J 

of the present age to toss and tumble all that collection of 
decayed finery ! Yet, doubtless, much would be found apro- 
pos to the reigning fashions ; for here, too, may be purchased 
the latest styles of wear upon Cheapside and Regent's Park 
— kid gloves at fabulously low prices ; made-up silks, Paris- 
ian bonnets, delicate foot gear, etc., with near neighbors of 
huge iron pots, copper cauldrons, and iron implements of 
grim aspect and indefinite weight, together with ships' cordage, 
oakum, pitch, and other marine necessities. Over this dis- 
pensary of needfuls and luxuries presides an accountant and 
two clerks, none of them gotten up in the elaborate costumes 
of the counter-waiters of civilization, but rather affecting 
buckskin coats, corduroy trousers, and the loudest styles of 
flannel shirts. Here all the multitudinous accounts of the 
fort are kept, a statement forwarded quarterly to the chief 
post of the district, and from thence sent to the company's 
great house in Fenchurch street, London. 

In the store there is no such thing known as exhibiting 
goods with a view of increasing the purchases of a probable 
customer. Whatever is asked for^ is produced, and, being 
paid for, the customer is ignored at once ; his room is evidently 
better than his company. There is, however, no need to urge 
the majority of its patrons to purchase. The nomadic half- 
breed or Indian brings his money, or whatever he may have 
to exchange, wrapped carefully in a handkerchief, places it 
upon the counter and begins to trade. First, he purchases 
what he absolutely needs ; then, whatever he sees — candy, 
chewing-gum, fancy ties — in short, anything that tastes sweet 



78 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

or looks flashy. When all is spent, to the last half-penny, he 
trudges off with his happy wife — his invariable companion 
when shopping — quite contentedly, although probably in 
doubt where his next meal is to come from." 

The currency with which business was transacted, until 
quite recently, consisted chiefly of promissory notes, issued 
by the company, redeemable by bills of exchange granted at 
sixty days' sight on the Governor, Deputy Governor and 
Committee in London. The notes were, however, readily re- 
deemed in coin at Fort Garry, without deduction for dis- 
count, whenever presented ; and being more easily carried 
than coin, bore a corresponding value in the eyes of the in- 
habitants of the territory. It is reported that General Pope, 
when resident on duty as an officer of engineers, many years 
ago, at Pembina, having observed the preference evinced by 
the settlers for the company's notes, more than for American 
gold, actually instanced it to the Government as a symptom 
of the degraded state of ignorance in which the unhappy 
colonists were kept by the Hudson's Bay Company. The 
notes are about the size of a half-sheet of letter paper, and 
are of three denominations — one pound sterling, five shillings 
sterling and one shilling sterling. Besides these, however, 
there is a good deal of English and American gold and silver 
coin in circulation in the country. 

Leaving the trading-store, a succession of warehouses 
containing stores and supplies, is next encountered. The last 

* The aspect of Lower Fort Garry, as well as the character of the 
business transacted there, has undergone considerable modification within 
the last decade. 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 79 

and most massive building, near the gateway, is the ware- 
house of packages destined for posts inland. These are goods 
imported from England and other countries, and to be used 
in the fur-trade exclusively. In this vast bulk of merchan- 
dise there is not a single package of over one hundred pounds 
weight. The greater portion weigh but eighty or ninety 
pounds, strongly packed, the cases lined with zinc and bound 
with iron. The packages are of this limited weight from the 
necessity of " portaging " them from river to river, sometimes 
a long distance, upon the shoulders of boatmen ; and they 
must be strong in order to insure safe transport over a thou- 
sand or more miles of rough travel. Twice annually this 
warehouse is emptied by the departure of the boat-brigades 
for the interior, and as often replenished by shipment from 
England. Summer is the busy season, as then all the freight- 
ing is carried on, and the accounts for the year closed. It is 
also a time of much bustle, created by the constant arrivals 
and departures which take place at so central a point as Fort 
Garry, in a country where locomotion may be called the nor- 
mal condition of the majority of the people during the sum- 
mer months. 

The wall surrounding the fort is about twelve feet high, 
and flanked by two-story bastions or turrets at each corner. 
In the centre of the inclosure rises an immense double flag- 
staff, bearing the flag of the company, with its strange design, 
and still stranger motto, "''Pro pelle aitevi" — skin for skin. 
Near by stands the bell tower, at the signal of whose tones 
work begins and ends. When it announces the dinner hour 



80 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the trading-store is closed, and the customers are turned out 
to await the return of the clerks. 

Outside the walls of the fort, but belonging to it, is situ- 
ated a miniature village of many and varied industries. In 
neat dwellings reside the heads of the different departments 
of what may be termed the outdoor business of the company. 
Here dwells the chief engineer of all the steam power in use 
upon its ships, boats, mills, etc. Here also lives the farmer 
who directs the cultivation of the immense agricultural farm 
connected with the fort ; the herdsman, who superintends the 
rearing and care of the droves of cattle, horses and other 
stock of the corporation ; the miller in charge of the milling 
interests ; the shipwright, who directs the building, launch- 
ing and refitting of the company's fleet. In the rear of these 
dwellings are mess-rooms for the accommodation of the 
workmen and the residences of the different overseers. 
Separate a little stand the flouring-mills, brewery, ship-yards, 
machine shops, etc., all supplied with the latest labor-saving 
machinery. Scattered along the bank of the river lie moored 
or drawn up on the beach the miniature navy of the company; 
here a lake steamer, there river steamboats, then schooners, 
yachts and a whole school of whale boats, with one mast, un- 
stepped at will, and of three and a half tons burden, used in 
the freighting service, and requiring nine men as crew. 
Drawn upon the beach lie birch-bark canoes of all sizes and 
conditions, from the little one of a single passenger capacity 
to the long dispatch boat requiring thirteen navigators. The 
steam vessels are mostly manned by Americans ; the sailing 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 8 1 

craft by the Orkney servants of the company, and the whale- 
boats by the native half-breeds. The birch-bark canoe is the 
Indian's buggy. One or two steam-tugs whistle and puff 
rapidly up and down the stream, towing rafts of lumber, boats 
laden with limestone, fire-wood, etc. The remaining sur- 
roundings of the fort are made up of a well kept vegetable 
garden, extensive stock corrals and a large farm under per- 
fect cultivation. 

At a distance of some twenty miles, at the foot of Lake 
Winnipeg, among the marshes and lowlands, are the cattle 
ranches of the company. There the stock is herded during 
the summer and housed in winter, being only driven to the 
uplands during the spring and fall freshets. The generally 
high price of cattle makes stock-raising extremely profitable, 
and the wandering life attendant upon their care is particu- 
larly suited to the native herdsmen. The stock is collected 
every spring and branded, and such a number selected as 
may be required for work purposes during the summer 
months. Oxen are used for freighting to a large extent ; 
trains of several hundred, harnessed singly in carts, crossing 
the prairies, being not an unusual sight. The majority of 
the large forts in the Southern country have their stockyards 
and farms, and the amount of wealth accumulated in this 
way is enormous. 

The business transacted at the Stone Fort, if we except 

freighting and some minor details of the fur-trade, may be 

presented as a fair sample of that carried on at the majority 

of the large posts contiguous to settlements; and its archi- 
4* 



82 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

tecture and surroundings, if wood be substituted for stone, 
identically the same. But the great depot posts in the North 
are of another character, and of one we wish to speak. 

Churchill Factory is situated about five miles from Hud- 
son's Bay, upon a small bay on the Churchill River, and 
above it, extending a distance of seven miles, to the lower 
rapids, is a large marsh. The factory receives its supplies 
once a year from a vessel which arrives in the latter part of 
August or early in September, and starts back upon her 
homeward voyage after a delay of about ten days, the se- 
verity of the climate rendering it imprudent to make a longer 
stay. By the middle of November the Churchill is enchained 
in ice, on which even the spring tides, though they rise ten 
or twelve feet above the ordinary level, have no effect. Not 
till the middle of June does the sun, getting the mastery of 
the frost, compel it to release its hold and let the river flow 
on its course. By the middle of October the marshes and 
swamps are frozen over, and the earth covered with snow. 
By the latter end of December snow covers the stockade 
which surrounds the factory from six to ten feet deep. 
Through this mass pathways about five feet in width are cut. 
Late in April the snow begins to melt away. From the end 
of October to the end of April, it is possible to walk only 
upon snow-shoes. 

In such a climate, much of what is done by the white 
inhabitants has a direct reference to their self-preservation. 
Before annual supplies of coal were forwarded from England, 
all the fuel that could be collected in the neighborhood of the 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 83 

factory was barely sufficient to supply a single fire in the 
morning and evening. During the remainder of the day the 
only recourse of the company's servants, when the weather 
was bad, was to walk in the guard-room under the protection 
of heavy coats of fur. By a stroke of ingenuity ice was turned 
into a means of protection against the piercing cold. The 
interior walls of the house were covered with water, which 
froze into solid ice. This lining was found to hold firm 
until the general thaw of spring came. In the intensity of 
frost, rocks, into the crevices of which water has run, split 
with a report resembling that of a gun. Everywhere they are 
punctured and riven from the effects of freezing water. 

The return of spring and summer, after a long, gloomy 
winter, in this region, is like an awakening to a new life. 
The welcome change is thoroughly enjoyed. Summer treads 
so closely upon the heels of winter as scarcely to leave any 
standing ground for spring. One of the great drawbacks to 
the enjoyment of the summer consists in the myriads of 
mosquitoes that fill the air, and give the weary dwellers no 
rest day or night. They crowd in such numbers at Churchill 
Factory as to appear to crush one another to death ; and the 
victims are sometimes in such piles that they have to be swept 
out twice every day. Nothing but a northeast wind, carrying 
the chill from the ice over which it has passed, gives relief 
from these tormentors. As a cure for mosquito bites, the 
natives anoint themselves with sturgeon oil — an effective 
remedy, but one requiring to be often applied. Nor is man 
alone the only victim of these insects. They prey equally 



84 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

upon animals of various kinds ; even the feathered tribe, so 
far from being safe, suffer about the neck and eyes. No per- 
manent relief can be expected until the chilly nights of Sep- 
tember set in. In this month the sandflies and midges are 
innumerable, the latter insinuating themselves all over the 
body, the clothes affording no adequate protection. These 
insect plagues cease their torments at sunset, and they dis- 
appear entirely in October. However the fact may be ac- 
counted for, all these pests become more numerous the farther 
one goes north. In the swamps, where they are most numer- 
ous, they make the dogs howl, roll on the ground and rush 
into the water. The fox shows his restlessness by barking 
and snapping about, and when inclination would suggest his 
going after birds' nests, he is compelled to seek shelter in his 
burrow. If the chief business of the company's servants in 
winter is to struggle for existence against the cold, in the 
summer an equally fierce contest takes place against mosqui- 
toes, sandflies and the overpowering heat. 

Widely different from the great depot forts, however, are 
the trading-posts of the company — quaint-looking places con- 
structed according to a uniform type. Built generally upon 
the second or lower bank of a river or lake, though some- 
times perched upon the loftier outer banks, a trading-fort is 
invariably a square or oblong, enclosed by immense trees or 
pickets, one end sunk deeply in the ground, and placed close 
together. In the prairie country this defence is stout and 
lofty, but in the wooded region it is frequently dispensed with 
altogether, A platform, about the ordinary height of a man^ 



THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 85 

is carried along inside the square, so as to enable any one to 
peep over without being in danger from arrow or bullet. The 
entrance is closed by two massive gates, an inner and an outer 
one, and all the houses of the chief trader and his men, the 
trading-store, fur-room and warehouses are within the square 
— the former always standing in the middle, the latter ranged 
about the walls, facing inward. At the four corners of the 
palisade are bastions, generally two stories high, pierced with 
embrasures, to delude the Indians into the belief that cannon 
are there, and intended to strike terror into any red-skinned 
rebel daring to dispute the supremacy of the company. 

The trade-room, or, as it is more frequently called, the 
Indian-shop, at an interior trading-post, bears a close resem- 
blance to the store of civilization. It contains every imagina- 
ble commodity likely to be required by the Indian. Upon 
its shelves are piled bales of cloth of all colors, capotes, 
blankets, etc.; in smaller divisions are placed balls of twine, 
scalping-knives, gun flints, fire-steels, files, gun-screws, canoe- 
awls, and glass beads of all colors, sizes and descriptions. 
Drawers under the counter contain fish-hooks, needles, scis- 
sors, thimbles, red and yellow ochre and vermilion for paint- 
ing faces and canoes. Upon the floor is strewn an assort- 
*ment of tin and copper kettles, ranging in capacity from a 
pint to half a gallon. In the corners of the room stand trad- 
ing-guns, kegs of powder and boxes of balls, while from the 
ceiling depend other articles of trade. 

In many of the forts the trade-room is cleverly contrived 
to prevent a sudden rush of Indians, the approach from out- 



86 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

side the pickets being through a long, narrow passage only 
of sufficient width to admit a single Indian at a time, and 
bent at an acute angle at the window where the trader stands. 
This precaution is rendered necessary by the frantic desire 
which sometimes seizes the Indian to shoot the trader. 

Time moves slowly at many of these isolated trading-posts 
and change is almost unknown. To-day they are the same 
as they were one hundred years ago. The requisition for 
the goods of this year contain precisely the same articles as 
that of a century since. The Indian trapper still brings his 
marten and musquash, and his wants are still strouds, cot- 
tons, beads, and trading-guns. The sun-dial, placed in the 
open courtyard three generations ago, has apparently 
changed no more than the great luminary whose course it 
marks. Only outside the walls, where a rude cross or 
wooden railing, blown over by the tempest, discolored by 
rain and snow-drift, marks the lonely resting-place of the 
dead, does the roll of the passing years leave its trace. 

Until a comparatively recent date the system of trading 
at all the company's posts was entirely one of barter, money 
values being unknown. Latterly, however, the all-potent 
dollar is becoming a recognized medium of exchange, espe- 
cially at the forts nearest the borders of civilization ; but the 
standard of values throughout all the territories of the com- 
pany is still the beaver-skin, by which the prices of all other 
furs are governed. Every service rendered, or purchase 
made, is paid for in skins, the beaver being the unit of com- 
putation. 



THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 87 

The collection of fur skins throughout the company's 
territory is made during the autumn and winter months at 
the different trading-posts ; the summer season being occu- 
pied in transporting goods to the various districts, the con- 
centration of furs at the depots, and the collection of a suffi- 
cient supply of provisions to last over winter. The latter 
consist in the plain districts of pemmican — dried buffalo meat 
mingled with fat — and flour; in the wood districts of fish and 
dried moose and reindeer-meat. A winter very rarely passes 
at the more isolated forts, however, without the little garrison 
being reduced to very short allowance, often being obliged 
to kill their horses to maintain life. 

The life of the company's servants is a hard one in many 
respects, yet it seems admirably suited to the daring men, 
who have shown a patient endurance of every hardship and 
privation in the fur-trade. Indeed, no other branch of com- 
merce has tended more to bring out man's energy and cour- 
age. To the pursuit of fur may be traced the sources from 
which the knowledge of three-fourths of the continent of 
North America has been derived. 



CHAPTER V. 

LIFE IN A Hudson's bay company's fort. 

'' I ''HE people resident in a Hudson's Bay Company's post 
-*- form a community of themselves, more or less gregari- 
ous, as the establishment is designed for trading purposes, a 
depot of supplies, or merely an isolated stockade for the ac- 
cumulation of provisions for the use of the larger forts. But, 
of whatever character the place may be a regular business- 
routine, demanding certain times for the performance of 
special duties, is strictly observed. This routine, which at 
certain seasons of the year degenerates into the merest for- 
mality, there being literally nothing to do, is the great pre- 
ventive of physical and mental rust among the inhabitants, 
and an antidote for that listless apathy which would certainly 
obtain were no defined rules of action and employment fol- 
lowed. Every member of the community, from the factor or 
clerk in charge to the cook, is expected to be, and almost in- 
variably is, at his post of duty at the times designated for its 
especial performance. And wherever this rule of action is 
followed, it is wonderful what a multitude of affairs con- 
stantly develop to demand attention, and what an amount of 
the smaller details of business may be thoroughly cared for. 
From this system come the close economy with which the 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 89 

affairs of the company are conducted, and the perfect under- 
standing of the petty details of every branch of its business 
on the part of its employes. This is augmented in a great 
measure, of course, by the assignment of certain persons to 
the performance of particular duties, and their retention in 
that position for a term of years, enabling each incumbent to 
gain a thorough knowledge of the requirements of his place. 
For example, a clerk in the service, in the great majority of 
instances, must remain a simple clerk for a term of fourteen 
years before he is even considered as being in the line of pro- 
motion. During these long years of service he must, per- 
force, gain a thorough practical knowledge of the duties, and 
even of the most trivial details, relating to his station. From 
long custom he falls into the beaten channels of the trade, 
its manner of executing business details, and identifies him- 
self with its traditions. So, when he assumes charge of a 
post or district, he carries with him, to assist in the discharge 
of his new responsibilities, that punctuality, adherence to 
routine, and careful regard for the little things of his position, 
which he has so well learned in his apprenticeship. These 
characteristics are of such a nature as to develop a sufficient 
amount of employment for the chief officer of a post even in 
the dullest times. 

The real life of the fort, then, consisting for the most part 
of mere routine, may be said to begin at the breakfast-hour, 
which is as regularly appointed as those for the dispatch of 
business. The breakfast-time with the lower class of em- 
ployes, the nature of whose duties demands early rising, is 



90 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

about six o'clock in the winter and five in the summer 
seasons. These servants mess by themselves, drawing ra- 
tions at regular intervals through a steward, much after the 
fashion of army-life. A cook is appointed from their num- 
ber, who performs that duty alone, and who is responsible for 
the provisions, quantity and quality of food, etc. A short 
season, generally devoted to pipe-smoking, is allowed after 
each meal, when they separate to their various duties. 

At the officers' mess, over wnich the trader or factor in 
charge of the post presides, and which is located in the build- 
ing he occupies, assemble the family of that official, the clerks 
and apprentices of every grade who are entitled to the name 
of "company's gentlemen," and the stranger temporarily 
within the gates. In conformity with the system of early 
hours prevalent in the country, breakfast with this mess takes 
place at half-past seven or eight o'clock at different seasons, 
dinner at two, and supper at six in the evening. It is at 
these hours that the social life of the day may be said to trans- 
pire. Here the limited budget of local and foreign news is 
discussed. Whatever of wit and humor may have occurred 
to the minds of its members during the day is carefully 
treasured up to be gotten off with appropriate effect amid 
the genial surroundings and mellowing influences of meal- 
time sociality. Should the chance gleam of humor happen 
to be upon some subject foreign to the discourse in hand, the 
conversation is adroitly trained into the desired channel to 
afford an occasion for its opportune delivery ; for a gleam of 
humor is too precious a thing to be lightly thrown away. 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 9 1 

The conversation, however, hinges for the most part, from 
the very nature of their isolated position, upon local subjects, 
connected more or less remotely with the trade. The suc- 
cess of Pierre's last venture with an outfit of goods traded at 
some Indian camp ; the quantity of fish or pemmican pro- 
cured by Sandy at his provision-stockade ; the amount of 
goods needed for the season's trade, etc., form staple and 
interesting topics of discourse and comment. The habit 
soon forms of making the most of these meagre subjects, 
until quite a degree of enthusiasm can be readily excited 
about really trivial matters. Not that the mental scope of 
the mess-table is necessarily limited to trivialities, but that 
subjects of discussion requiring any profundity of thought 
present themselves infrequently. The habit, too, of close 
attention to mere details tends to draw thought in that direc- 
tion, to the exclusion of more general matters. 

The comparative monotony of the mess-room, which ob- 
tains from the meagreness of the conditions of its isolated 
life, and from the long and perfect intimacy of those compos- 
ing its social circle, is, nevertheless, often broken by the ad- 
vent of a stranger at the board. This stranger may be a 
passing official from another post in the service, or some 
wanderer who braves the discomforts of travel through those 
inhospitable regions from a traveler's curiosity. In either 
case he is equally a stranger to the mess-room, from the fact 
of the unusual budget of news he brings to add to the some- 
what worn and threadbare stock of discourse already in hand. 
The arrival of such a personage is a matter of much bustle 



92 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

and congratulation ; and he receives a welcome which, while 
it has many of the elements of selfishness on the part of his 
entertainers, leaves nothing to be desired in its heartiness and 
cordiality. Indeed, he is likely to be wined and dined in 
good earnest so long as his budget of news holds out. 

If he be a passing officer from another fort, the mess-table 
is made the occasion of a detailed and succinct account of 
the latest news at the date of his departure from his own es- 
tablishment, together with that accumulated at the various 
mess-rooms at which he has halted on the way. As the in- 
termarriages of the employes of the company have been pro- 
ductive of ties of consanguinity of various degrees of remote- 
ness permeating the entire service, questions as to the welfare 
of a relative stationed, say, at an adjoining post, lead to a 
reply pertinent to the health of a whole army of relations 
scattered over a country reaching to the antipodes. The 
following up of this chain of connections, their healths, em- 
ployments, stations, etc., naturally occupies considerable time, 
and keeps the new-comer in full tide of converse, and the 
mess-table interested listeners for long hours. In addition 
to news of this nature, he has his own autobiography since 
the time of their last meeting to relate ; jokes to perpetrate 
over the escapades of present company of which he has 
heard ; and, if he dwell nearer the confines of civilization than 
his hosts, the latest news from the outer world to communi- 
cate. All these topics of conversation are religiously reserved 
for discussion and revelation at the mess-table, that the en- 
tire community may profit by their dispensation. 



LIFE IN A COMPANY S FORT. 93 

At such times a more lively air pervades the mess-room, 
and a genial spirit of good-fellowship develops under the 
unusual excitement. Small caches of wine and spirits, hoarded 
away from the meagre annual allowance, make their appear- 
ance upon the board, and add to the hilarity of the occasion. 
Perhaps a few cigars, produced as a rare treat, find their way 
mysteriously into the room from some unknown chest in 
which they have laid buried for years. The genial glow of 
fellowship deepens with each succeeding gathering about the 
board, until the whole community feel its reviving influence. 
The long evenings of social intercourse are protracted far 
beyond their usual wont, and old memories are ruthlessly 
dragged forth to feed the fires of conversation should they 
show symptoms of abatement. Even long after the departure 
of the transient visitor, his sayings, the news he imparted, and 
the rollicking time of merriment he occasioned, furnish abund- 
ant matter of comment. 

The arrival of a traveler from the outer world is, however, 
the great episode in the everyday life of the post. The com- 
munity find in him an inexhaustible fount of enjoyment ; and, 
if he be of a communicative disposition, his store of news and 
narrative will do service in payment of his weekly board-bill 
for an indefinite period. To such a one the hospitalities of 
the fort are extended in the most liberal manner. An apart- 
ment is assigned him for his sole occupancy during the period 
of his sojourn. He is free to come and go when and where 
he listeth, means of locomotion being furnished upon demand. 
The members of the community delight in explaining to him 



94 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

any matters pertaining to their isolated life which may attract 
his attention, thereby affording an opportunity of conversa- 
tion. His companionship is eagerly sought by all, and the 
fortunate individual who secures his preferred acquaintance 
excites at once the envy of less favored ones. Nothing is left 
undone to render his stay pleasant, and to prolong it to the 
utmost. When he finally takes his departure, he is sent upon 
his journey freighted with the good wishes of the isolated 
post, and certain of the same cordial treatment at his next 
stopping-place. 

The mess-table has, too, other attractions than those of 
sociality, and of a more solidly substantial kind. The officers 
of the forts are all good livers, and, although accustomed to 
rough it on short allowances of food when necessity requires, 
take particular care that the home-larder shall be well stocked 
with all the delicacies and substantial afforded by the sur- 
rounding country. The viands are of necessity composed, in 
the greater part, of the wild game and fish with which the 
prairies and waters abound. But they are of the choicest 
kind, and selected from an abundant supply. One gets there 
the buffalo-hump — tender and juicy ; the moose-nose — tremu- 
lous and opaque as a vegetable conserve ; the finest and most 
savory waterfowl, and the freshest of fish — all preserved by 
the power of frost instead of salt. True, the supply of vege- 
tables at many mess-tables is wofully deficient, and a continu- 
ous diet of wild meats, like most other things of eternal same- 
ness, is apt to pall upon the appetite. But the list of meats 
is so extensive, and each requiring a particular mode of cook- 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 95 

ing that a long time may elapse without a repetition of dishes. 
Then, too, the climate favors the consumption of solid food, 
and, after short residence, the appetite becomes seasoned to 
the quality of the fare obtainable. Bread, as an imported 
article, is in many instances regarded as quite in the charac- 
ter of a luxury; the few sacks of flour which constitute the 
annual allowance of each officer being hoarded away by the 
prudent housewife as carefully as the jams and preserves of 
her more fortunate sisters. In such cases it is batted into 
small cakes, one of which is placed beside each plate at meal- 
time ; the size of the cake being so regulated as to afford a 
single one for each meal of the year. The more common 
vegetables, such as potatoes and turnips, can be successfully 
cultivated in some places, and, wherever this occurs, enter 
largely into the daily menu. Fruits, either fresh or dried, 
seldom make their appearance upon the table ; lack of trans- 
portation, also, forbidding the importation of the canned 
article. 

At many of the remote inland posts, however, the daily 
bill of fare is limited enough, and a winter season seldom 
passes without the garrison of some isolated station suffering 
extreme privation. At Jasper and Henry Houses, for ex- 
ample, the officers have been frequently forced to slaughter 
their horses in order to supplement the meagre supply of 
provisions. These posts are situated in the very heart of the 
Rocky Mountains, with the vast region marked "swampy" 
on the maps separating them from the depot forts. In many 
of the extreme Arctic stations the supply of provisions is 



96 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

limited the year round to reindeer-meat, and fish, and not 
infrequently to the latter alone. Under these circumstances, 
no wonder that the company's officer comes to regard the 
possession of flour and sugar as among the most essential 
requisites of life. 

As to the comforts of upholstery and furniture in the 
mess-room, and, indeed, throughout the entire establishment, 
but little attention is paid to it. The constantly-recurring 
changes of residence, occasioned by the necessities of their 
condition, render the officers of the company, as a class, some- 
what careless about the accommodations aff'orded by their 
houses. At remote stations, the most simple articles of fur- 
niture are held to be sufficient, and shifts are made to adapt 
different objects to uses not contemplated by their makers. 
The strong, compact wooden trunks or traveling-cases used 
in the country, for example, often constitute the chief pieces 
of furniture — if we except, perhaps, a bedstead — and do duty 
as chairs, tables, and wardrobe. At the larger posts, how- 
ever, and at the principal depot-stations, the residents are 
furnished with more of the appliances of civilization, and 
means exist whereby such as may be so inclined can render 
themselves very comfortable ; more especially as changes of 
appointments occur less frequently at headquarters than 
elsewhere. 

While it must be confessed that the main body of officers 
confine themselves in this regard to the practical and useful, 
yet it not infrequently happens that a gentleman of independ- 
ent taste turns up who, animated by the desire of giving an 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 97 

artistic air to his chamber, graces the useful with more or less 
of the ornamental. These peculiarities of individual taste be- 
tray themselves most strikingly in the selection and disposal 
of bedroom furniture. Brightly burnished arms, powder-flasks,, 
and shot-pouches, are arranged in fantastic figures upon the 
walls. Objects of aboriginal handiwork in birch-bark, por- 
cupine-quills, and beadwork, impart a certain barbaric splen- 
dor to the apartment ; while in vivid contrast appear rude 
frames enclosing highly-colored lithographs of deeds of daring 
on the British turf, highways, and waters. Prize-fighters, sway- 
ing in fierce conflict, and surrounded by excited and applaud- 
ing hundreds, may be seen in round the last ; race-horses, 
flecked with foam and dirt, stretch away in the dim perspec- 
tive in a neck-and-neck race toward a winning-post where an 
eager crowd of spectators stand with uplifted hands to wel- 
come the favorite ; wild huntsmen, with impossible dogs, and 
guns with crooked barrels, fire wildly toward the left and bring 
down myriads of birds at the right ; and, to crown all, a red- 
and-yellow picture of Queen Victoria in the character of a 
female Neptune, seated on a solitary rock in mid-ocean and 
holding a pitchfork in her hand, occupies the post of honor, 
and is supposed to represent the omnipotent Britannia. 

The business of the post, with the exception of the neces- 
sary employments of the lower servants, is transacted between 
the hours of nine in the morning and six in the evening, with 
an interval of an hour between two and three o'clock for 
dinner, when the offices and stores are closed. Generally 
speaking, this division of time holds good all the year round 



98 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

though slight modifications take place with the changing 
seasons and periods when little work is done. During these 
hours of business there is much to be looked after, especially 
in the summer season. When the bell announces the open- 
ing of the fort-gates, the inclosure soon fills with Indians and 
traders, who besiege the counter of the trading-store, or 
lounge idly about the yard — picturesque vagabonds in motley 
attire. The few clerks in charge are busily engaged in meas- 
uring tea, sugar, ammunition, etc., into colored-cotton hand- 
kerchiefs unwrapped from greasy aboriginal heads for their 
reception ; in examining furs and paying for them in instal- 
ments ; in measuring off the scanty yards of blue-cotton 
prints that are to clothe the forms of dusky belles, or causing 
howls of delight by the exhibition of gilt jewelry to be sold 
at ten times its original cost. 

Outside the stockade, the voyagcurs are loading whale- 
boats, in the adjacent stream with bales of fur for transporta- 
tion to depot-forts, or discharging cargoes of merchandise 
destined to wide-spread distribution. Over this process an 
accountant keeps careful watch, as he does over everything 
involving a representative value for which he will be held to 
account. All is bustle and activity ; yet there is no haste. 
The careful attention to details exhibits itself in eveiything, 
and the minutest watch is kept over all. 

As the day advances, the arrivals at the fort increase in 
number and importance. Ofttimes a large band of Indians 
ride rapidly up to the stockade, and, turning their ponies 
loose upon the prairie, enter upon the barter of small quan- 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 



99 




lOO THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

tides of peltries to supply their immediate necessities. Again, 
the band will encamp about the stockade, trading the results 
of a long and successful hunt, and making the days and nights 
hideous with their heathenish festivities. Their camp-fires 
light up the plain round about with a fitful glare ; their green- 
and-yellow-painted visages and blanket-attired forms assume 
at length a certain degree of individuality ; and the more im- 
portunate beggars even become familiar objects to the sight \ 
when suddenly they are gone, only to be replaced by others 
of a like description ; for a company's fort is seldom free 
from its complement of chronic hangers-on. There is, too, 
much bustle created by the arrivals and departures of officials 
from other forts of the service, en route in charge of boat- 
brigades for distant points, who stop but for a few hours, and 
are off again. Should the season be winter, however, the 
business hours are, to a certain degree, merely formal, and 
the time is occupied in those petty details to be found in any 
occupation. True, a certain amount of trade prevails at the 
larger posts throughout the year, which, at the remote estab- 
lishments, takes the form of outfitting traders who visit Indian 
camps, or small trading-stations at a distance, with dog-trains. 
But there is always much time, even during the hours sup- 
posed to be especially devoted to business, for which it is dif- 
ficult to find full employment. 

At six o'clock in the evening the labors of the day termi- 
nate, and the members of the community are at liberty to pass 
the remaining hours of the twenty-four as they list. And 
these are the monotonous hours which drag most wearily upon 
each individual member. In the summer season, recourse is 
had to athletic exercises during the long twilights — rowing 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 101 

upon the rivers, pitching quoits, equestrian excursions, etc., 
obtaining with the younger and more hardy clerks ; others 
the pleasures of the chase attract, and prolonged forays with 
dog and gun are made upon the waterfowl in the neighboring 
water-courses. But this vernal season is brief, and the time 
soon comes when the attractions of in-door life must supply 
the mental pabulum. For this purpose numerous modes of 
employment are resorted to. 

With the officer in charge the long evenings are generally 
passed in the society of his family, and in writing up the log- 
book of the post. This latter work, if he be a man given to 
composition, soon becomes a labor of love. In it he chroni- 
cles all the petty incidents of the day : the arrivals and depart- 
ures ; the principal receipts and expenditures ; the health of 
the little community under his charge, etc. To this he ap- 
pends a meteorological report with all the exactness of " Old 
Prob." himself. There may be added, also, the general reflec- 
tions of the writer on subjects pertaining to the service, and 
such suggestions as seem to grow out of the events noted. 
He may even wander to a limited extent outside the bounds 
of strict business matters, and indulge in little flights of com- 
position on subjects irrelevant to the trade. It happens not 
infrequently that short poems of greater or less measures of 
excellence, and brief prose sketches of fair diction and vivid 
imaginings, appear scattered among the dry bones of statistics. 
But it must be said of the majority of log-books that they 
smack only of weather-reports, the deficiencies of the frozen- 
fish supply, or the accumulation o: peltries. 

With the younger portion of the community — the clerks, 
apprentices, and post-masters — conversation and the peaceful 



102 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

pipe occupy a prominent position in the passage of time. 
Games, too, are in great demand, and every apartment pos- 
sesses its well-thumbed pack of cards, its rude cribbage- 
board, and sets of wooden dominoes. Reading men find 
abundant leisure to pursue their favorite occupation during the 
long winter evenings. Books, as the property of private indi- 
viduals, from the difficulty i n transporting them, are, however, 
more scarce than might be expected. To atone somewhat for 
this, the company have established extensive libraries for the 
use of the officers and servants in many of the larger stations 
in the north, from which supplies for the adjacent smaller 
posts may be drawn, so that the diligent reader may command 
new books from time to time. Then, too, there comes once 
or twice during the winter season a red-letter day, upon which 
the mail arrives, bringing a long list of letters to be answered, 
and periodicals from the outer world. As in the remote 
northern posts the mail has been a year upon the way, the file 
of newspapers is laid carefully away, each number being pro- 
duced and read as its date, one year after publication, is 
reached. In the answering of letters considerable difficulty 
is experienced from the absence of anything new to write 
about. To obviate this and produce the requisite novelty, 
the writer generally succeeds in composing a single letter 
having the desired degree of spiciness. This he copies and 
sends to all those friends whom he is desirous of placing under 
the obligation of an answer. Thus, for many days after the 
arrival of a mail, occupation for the long evenings is easily 
found, until the returning dog-train bears his correspondence 
away, and with it that method of passing time. 

Parties not studiously inclined often pass their spare hours 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. IO3 

in exercising their skill upon one of the musical instruments. 
Of these the violin, on account probably of its portable nature, 
is most ordinarily selected, and the votary, after a series of 
years passed in sedulous practice, usually attains a certain 
ghastly facility Qfexecutjon. So common an accomplishment 
indeed is fiddle-playing in the service, that violin-strings are 
annually forwarded as a part of the regular outfit for sale in 
the northern districts. Under the inspiration of this instru- 
ment, it is scarcely to be wondered at that the few holidays of 
the year, and frequently the long evenings also, should be en- 
livened with dances, in which all the dusky maidens within 
hailing-distance of the fort participate. It is in the enjoy- 
ment of this pastime that the wearied clerk finds his chief de- 
light ; and he jigs and reels the hours away to the measures 
of monotonous and oft-repeated tunes. On such occasions 
the company is cosmopolitan to a striking degree, and all 
grades of employes mingle on terms of the most democratic 
equality. 

With such simple pleasures and in the discharge of such 
duties, the life of the isolated community glides uneventfully 
away. If its amusements are few, they are at least innocent 
and improved to the utmost. Few temptations to wrong- 
doing are presented to their solitary lives. Each succeeding 
year adds to the accumulations of the last, until, in the early 
afternoon of life, the company's officer finds himself possessed 
of abundant means to pass the remainder of his days under 
more genial conditions. But, strange to say, it almost invari- 
ably happens that his old life has so grown upon him, so en- 
tirely possessed him, that the charms of a higher civilization 
have no power to attract. We have seen many bid a final 



I04 THE GREA T FUR LAXD. 

farewell to the inhospitable regions where the best years of 
their lives had been spent, with the purpose of returning to 
their early homes to pass the decline of life ; but one after 
another they drifted back again. The change was too abrupt. 
They had outlived their former friends ; their ways of life 
were radically different ; in short, the great busy world moved 
all too fast for their quiet and placid lives. 



LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 



105 







>Z}^--->'"-r. 




'-iw % 








5* 



CHAPTER VI. 

A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 

INFINITELY picturesque was the starting of the boat- 
brigade for the Mission of the White Dog and beyond. Far 
down on the sandy beach, below the eyrie upon which was 
perched a Hudson's Bay Company's post — a veritable medi- 
aeval castle transplanted to the bluffs of the Northwest — 
lay the eight boats composing it. Just then they were in holiday 
apparel, and decorated for departure : small red flags, stream- 
ing ribbons, gaudy ensigns, and the spreading antlers of 
moose and elk, appeared everywhere above the square pack- 
ages of freight. Congregated upon the beach, attired in their 
bravest apparel, and accompanied by wives and sweethearts, 
who had come to wish them a final " Bon rojagr," were the 
seventy or more half-breed and Indian voyagcitrs who consti- 
tuted their crews. 

The crowd ran the gamut of color from the deep copper 
of the aboriginal to the pure white of the Caucasian. Many 
of the women were clearly of unmingled Indian blood. Tall 
and angular, long masses of straight black hair fell over their 
backs ; blue-and-white cotton gowns, shapeless, stayless, un- 
crinolined, displayed the flatness of their unprojecting figures. 
Some wore a gaudy handkerchief on the head ; the married 
also bound one across the bosom. The half castes were in 
better form, many of them being quite handsome. It was 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 10/ 

not, however, their comeliness of feature which impressed the 
traveler : it was their grace ; that supple shapeliness, that 
sveltcsse, for which the English tongue has no word. Theirs 
was the rich dark beauty of the Creole type. Smaller in 
figure, they were at once better rounded, and more lithe and 
willowy. A comely half-breed woman's figure impresses one 
as a startling realization of the Greek ideal of grace — a statue 
by Phidias animated and garbed — a living Venus of flushed 
bronze. Beauty of feature with them is, perhaps, not a com- 
mon gift ; but when one does find it, he straightway dreams 
of Titian, and Veronese, and Tintoretto. 

The voyageurs themselves, if Indian, vv^ere generally young, 
men, heavy-set, copper-colored, and highly ornamented ; their 
black hair greased, and plaited into small braids, from which 
depended bright-colored ribbons, and feathers. About their 
thick necks were broad bands of wampum, from which hung, 
suspended over the throat, huge silver medals. These medals 
were not the rewards of valuable service, however, but may 
be purchased at any company's store. Their capotes were 
open at the throat, and revealed broad, uncovered chests, 
corded with muscles. In place of- the customary variegated 
sash, they wore broad leather belts, in which were slung their 
fire-bags, beaded and quilled, containing pipe and tobacco, 
flint and steel, and serving also, upon occasion, as pocket- 
books. 

If the voyageur were half-breed, however, he was a little 
above the medium height, with lithe, active frame, enough of 
the aboriginal to give suppleness, and sufficient of the white 
to impart a certain solidity of frame lacking in the savage. 
His features, too, were regular to a fault ; complexion nut- 



I08 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

brown ; eyes black, and long black hair hanging down in a 
straight mass over his shoulders. He wore a tasseled cap, 
and was also en capote., but of fine blue cloth ornamented with 
two rows of silver-gilt buttons ; variegated sash, corduroy 
trousers, and moccasins, of course. 

As a rule, the voyageurs are of French origin, descendants 
of the traders and trappers of the old fur-companies, though 
by long intermarriage the blood of three or four nationali- 
ties mingles in their veins. Their grandfathers have been 
French-Canadian, their grandmothers Cree squaws ; English, 
and Crow, and Ojibway, have contributed to their descent on 
the mother's side. This mixture has produced, in most in- 
stances, a genial, good-humored, and handsome fellow ; 
although, as a class, with some cleverness and cheerfulness, 
their faces generally betray a certain moodiness of temper, 
and lack the frank and honest respectability stamped upon 
countenances more purely Anglo-Saxon. Swarthy in com- 
plexion, with dark hair and eyes, their features are generally 
good and aquiline in character ; and, though sometimes 
coarse, are invariably well-proportioned. Physically they are 
a fine race ; tall, straight, and well-proportioned, lightly 
formed but strong, and extremely active and enduring. Of 
more supple build, as a rule, than the Indian, they combine 
his endurance and readiness of resource with the greater 
muscular strength and perseverance of the white man. 

In disposition they are a merry, light-hearted and obliging 
race, recklessly generous, hospitable and extravagant. When 
idle, they spend much of their time in singing, dancing, and 
gossiping from house to house, getting drunk upon the 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. IO9 

slightest occasion ; and when the vogageur drinks, he does 
it, as he says, couiine il faiit — that is, until he obtains the de- 
sired happiness of complete intoxication. Vanity is his 
besetting sin, and he will deprive himself and his family of 
the common necessaries of life to become the envied pos- 
sessor of any gewgaw that may attract his fancy. Intensely 
superstitious, and a firm believer in dreams, omens and warn- 
ings, he is an apt disciple of the Romish faith. Completely 
under the influence of his priest, in most respects, and ob- 
serving the outward forms of his religion with great regular- 
ity, he is yet grossly immoral, often dishonest, and generally 
untrustworthy. No sense of duty seems to actuate his daily 
life ; for, though the word "devoir" is frequently on the lips 
of this semi-Frenchman, the principle of " devoir " is not so 
strong in his heart as are the impulses of passion and caprice. 
But little aptitude for continuous labor, moreover, belongs to 
his constitution. No man will labor more cheerfully and 
gallantly at the severe toil pertinent to his calling ; but these 
efforts are of short duration, and when they are ended, his 
chief desire is to do nothing but eat, drink, smoke and be 
merry — all of them acts in which he greatly excels. 

The ceremony of taking a wife, by which this mercurial 
race sprang into existence in the old days of the fur-trade, 
cannot be considered, in the light of the present day, as an 
elaborate performance, or one much encumbered with social 
and religious preliminaries. If it failed in literally fulfilling 
the condition of force implied in the word " taking," it 
usually degenerated into a mere question of barter. When 



f 10 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the French-Canadian wanted a wife, he took a horse, a gun, 
some white cloth or beads, and, repairing to the lodge of his 
red brother in the wilderness, purchased the heart and hand 
of the squaw he desired from her stern parent. If she did 
not love after " these presents," the lodge-poles were always 
handy to enforce that obedience necessary to domestic tran- 
quillity. This custom, we may say, has by no means fallen 
into disuse, but is still in vogue along the border. 

As a class, the voyagcurs rank very low in the country. 
Their priests profess to have a certain influence over them, but 
admit that their flock is disreputable, and not to be relied upon 
in the faithful performance of a contract. As a consequence, 
it sometimes happens that the crews of a boat-brigade mutiny 
during a voyage, and return home. This evil, it is true, 
might be obviated were it not for the system of advancing 
wages for the trip, necessary in dealing with the class of which, 
for the most part, the crews are composed. But, unfortu- 
nately, on the voyageurs' return from the summer voyages 
they do not betake themselves to any special modes of indus- 
tr}-, but vary seasons of hunting and fishing with longer in- 
tervals of total idleness. Toward mid-winter, a steady per- 
severance in this mode of life brings themselves, and their 
equally improvident families, to a condition closely allied to 
starvation. When, about the middle of December, the books 
are opened at the company's offices for the enrollment of men 
to serve in the trips of the ensuing season, a general rush of 
the needy crowd takes place. Upon their acceptance and en- 
rollment, a small advance is made; and afterward, at stated 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. Ill 

intervals before the beginning of the voyage, further sums are 
paid. Toward spring, however, when the difficulty of obtain- 
ing food lessens in some degree, the men assume a higher 
tone, and demand larger sums in advance ; threatening that, 
if their demands are not complied with, they will not proceed 
upon the voyage at all. Counter threats of imprisonment are 
superciliously smiled away with the remark that the time will 
be more easily passed in durance than in labor. The result 
is, that when the day of embarkation arrives, some of the en- 
rolled men do not appear, while those who do have already 
received half their wages. Once on the voyage, their wives 
and families draw as frequently as practicable upon the 
amount "still coming to them," so that the sum forfeited by 
mutiny and breach of contract is insufficient to restrain the 
men from a premature return. 

The continuance of this system has been caused by the 
necessities of the men, whom it preserves from absolute star- 
vation, and the undoubted fact that the laborious nature of 
the service renders it difficult, if not impossible, to secure 
men in the spring, when many other opportunities exist of 
gaining a livelihood in other and less trying channels. 

It is customary to distribute a small quantity of rum 
among the men immediately before starting, and this, together 
with the probably considerable amount previously surrepti- 
tiously obtained, materially increased the hilarity and excite- 
ment of our departure. The Pierres became gratuitously 
profuse in their farewells, returning again and again to clasp 
the hands of the entire assembly, and claiming every one as a 



I I 2 THE GREA T EUR LAND. 

brother ; the Antoines, violently gesticulative, declaimed with 
cheerful irrelevance some old chanson about the glory of their 
ancestors ; while the Baptistes hung, limply lachrymose, upon 
the necks of their best friends, murmuring maudlin sentiment 
into their receptive ears. Here and there, sober, and with an 
air of vast importance, stalked a sturdy steersman, getting his 
men well in hand, and having an eye to the lading of his par- 
ticular boat. Busy clerks and voluble porters vied with 
chatting, laughing women in augmenting the Babel of sound. 

All things being at last ready, the boat of the guide swung 
into the stream, followed closely by the others in single file. 
Vociferous cheers greeted us from the well-lined banks, and 
the wild boat-songs of the voyageurs, sung in full chorus, began 
— a weird but pleasing melody. Steadily the oars were plied, 
and regularly the beat and rhythm of oar-lock and song re- 
sounded, until, sweeping round a projecting headland, fort 
and friends were lost to view. 

The lower course of the Red River of the North presents, 
for the last thirty miles, a picture of grand simplicity, and, it 
must be confessed, monotony, which, magnificent as it ap- 
pears, wearies the eye and tires the mind at last. Flowing, 
like all other prairie-streams, deep below the surface of the 
plain, there is nothing to be seen but the dead calm of an un- 
ruffled, mirror-like sheet of water glaring in the sun, and, as 
far as the eye can reach, two walls of dark-green foliage with 
the deep-blue firmament above them. In the foreground, slen- 
der stems of cotton-wood and gigantic oaks, with long fes- 
toons of moss hanging from their aged limbs, dip down into 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. II3 

the turbid flood. No hill breaks the finely-indented line of 
foliage, which everywhere bounds the horizon ; only here and 
there a half-breed's hut, or the tepee of some child of the prai- 
rie and stream, peeps out of the green. Happily, the novelty 
of a first voyage by boat-brigade was sufficient to engross the 
attention of the traveler, and attract his thoughts from the 
magnificent panorama offered by Nature, to the vignette of 
northern boat-life embraced within the limits occupied by the 
eight boats speeding their way down the centre of the broad 
stream. 

The comparatively limited season during which water 
tranportation is available in the Fur Land ; the nature of the 
cargoes to be transported, and the channels through which 
they must pass, render the strictly summer months a season 
of much bustle and activity. The loss of a few days in the 
departure of boats, destined for the interior, may deprive 
some important district of the means of traffic for the ensuing 
year, and necessitate the holding over of immense stocks of 
goods, to the serious derangement of trade, and a heavy cur- 
tailment of the annual profits. The matter of transportation, 
then, is one of vital importance to the fur-company, and is 
conducted with a care and system devoted, perhaps, to no 
other branch of a trade in which close attention to details 
and routine are distinguishing characteristics. Though the ac- 
tual duties of freighting occupy but about four months in the 
year, yet the preparation pertinent to its perfect performance 
engrosses to a great extent the remaining eight. The result is 
a system so perfect that over the long courses traversed by 



IT4 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

the boat-brigades their arrival may be calculated upon almost 
to the hour ; and the anxious trader may ascend his lookout 
post with the certainty of seeing, sweeping round the nearest 
point, the well-laden boats, with swarthy crews bending low 
to their oars, and singing their weird cJiansons in time to the 
measured oar-stroke. 

The freighting season begins about the first week in June, 
when the ice has disappeared from the rivers, and the spring 
supplies of merchandise, destined for the interior, have 
reached the depot-forts. At that period, the advance brigade 
of seven or eight boats leaves Fort Garry — now the principal 
point of forwarding in the service — followed a week later by 
yet another. This interval is allowed in order to prevent the 
meeting of the boats at any post, thereby creating undue 
bustle and confusion. These boats tend north and northwest, 
toward Methy Portage and York Factory, there to meet other 
brigades from the remote arctic regions, to whom they deliver 
their cargoes, receiving in exchange the furs brought down 
from the interior posts — the proceeds of the year's trade. 
When this exchange is effected, each brigade retraces its 
course. The time occupied by the longest trip — that of 
Methy Portage, the height of land from which the waters 
flow into Hudson's Bay and the Arctic Ocean — is about four 
months. Numerous shorter trips are also made, and the 
whole country is alive during this season with advancing and 
returning boats. 

The peculiar nature of the transportation service of the 
company necessitates certain conditions in freight, boats and 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 11$ 

boatmen pertaining to it, not elsewhere to be found. The 
entire water-carriage of the country is performed by means of 
what are technically called " inland boats," of three and a half 
tons' burden, and requiring nine men as crew. Of the shape 
of the ordinary whale-boat, they carry a small mast, unstepped 
at will, upon which in crossing lakes, should the wind prove 
favorable, a square sail is set. A small platform, or deck, 
covers the stern of the vessel, upon which is seated the steers- 
man, using at times the ordinary rudder-lever; again, a long 
sweep, with one stroke of which the direction of the craft is 
radically changed. The steersman is captain of the vessel, 
the eight men under him being ranged as middle-men, or 
rowers. A number of these boats constitute a brigade, over 
which a guide, skilled in the intricacies of current and coast, 
is placed, and who may be regarded as the commodore of the 
fleet. His duty is to guide the brigade through dangerous 
waters, to support the authority of the steersmen, and to 
transact the business of the brigade at the stations touched 
en route. The position is an important one when properly 
filled, and is generally held by the same person until advanc- 
ing years necessitate his relinquishment. 

Rapidly we sped down the waters of the turbid stream, 
and monotonously echoed the loud " ough " of the boatmen, 
as they rose from their seats with each stroke of the oar, only 
to sink back again with a sudden jar as the broad blades left 
the water. Stately swans looking thoughtfully into the stream, 
tall cranes standing motionless on one leg, and ducks of every 
hue disappearing behind the foliage screening the mouth of 



Il6 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

some creek or coolie, were the only living things to be seen. 
The landscape was monotonously splendid, and the hours 
passed in unvarying succession. Ten minutes in every hour 
were allowed the hardy voyageurs for rest ; the long oars 
were lifted from the flood, from every fire-bag came pipes and 
tobacco, and the bark of the grey 'willow, mingled with equal 
proportions of the Indian weed, lent its fragrance to the morn- 
ing air. After such pleasant interlude, the paddles were 
plied with renewed vigor, and soon the woods disappeared 
and the banks, which gradually sank to a lower level, became 
covered with the long reedy grass marking the delta of the 
stream. Further on, even the semblance of vegetation af- 
forded by the reeds ceased abruptly, leaving naught but a 
sandy bar, submerged at high tide, and the waters of an im- 
mense lake extending northward out of sight — a lake which 
stretched away into unseen places, and on whose waters a 
fervid June sun was playing strange freaks of mirage and 
inverted shore-land. 

Upon the sand-bar at the outlet of the main channel our 
boats were run along-shore, and preparations ensued for the 
mid-day meal. Generally speaking, while voyaging it is only 
allowable to put ashore for breakfast, a cold dinner being 
taken in the boats ; but as no voyageur could be expected to 
labor in his holiday-apparel, a halt was necessary before set- 
ting out upon the lake. 

The low beach yielded ample store of driftwood, the relics 
of many a northern gale, and of this a fire was lighted, and 
the dinner apparatus arranged in the stern-sheets of the boat. 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 11/ 

The functions of the chef^ limited to the preparation of pem- 
mican in some palatable form, and the invariable dish of black 
tea, were simple enough. For boatmen pemmican is the un- 
alterable bill-of-fare, and is the favorite food of the half-breed 
and Indian voyageur. The best form of pemmican, made 
for table use, generally has added to it ten pounds of sugar 
per bag, and saskootoom or service berries — the latter acting 
much as currant jelly does with venison, correcting the greasi- 
ness of the fat by a slightly acid sweetness. Sometimes wild 
cherries are used instead of the saskootoom. This berry-pem- 
micanis considered the best of its kind, and is very palatable. 

As to the appearance of the commoner form of pemmican, 
take the scrapings from the driest outside corner of a very 
stale piece of cold roast-beef, add to it lumps of tallowy, ran- 
cid fat, then garnish all with long human hairs, on which 
string pieces, like beads upon a necklace, and short hairs of 
dogs or oxen, or both, and you have a fair imitation of com- 
mon pemmican. Indeed, the presence of hairs in the food 
has suggested the inquiry whether the hair on the buffaloes 
from which the pemmican is made does not grow on the in- 
side of the skin. The abundance of small stones or pebbles 
in pemmican also indicates the discovery of a new buffalo diet 
heretofore unknown to naturalists. 

Carefully made pemmican, flavored with berries and sugar, 
is nearly good ; but of most persons new to the diet it may 
be said that, in two senses, a little of it goes a long way. 
Nothing can exceed its sufficing quality ; it is equal or supe- 
rior to the famous Prussian sausage, judging of it as we must. 



I 1 8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Two pounds' weight, with bread and tea, is enough for the 
dinner of eight hungry men. A bag weighing one hundred 
pounds, then, would supply three good meals for one hundred 
and thirty men. A sledge-dog that will eat from four to six 
pounds of fish per day, when at work, will only consume two 
pounds of pemmican, if fed upon that food alone. Hungry 
men are often seen to laugh incredulously at a small handful 
of pemmican placed before them as sufficient for a meal ; yet 
they go away satisfied, leaving half of it. On the other hand, 
half-breeds and Indians will eat four pounds of it in a single 
day ; appetites like that, however, do not count in ordinary 
food estimates. 

The flavor of pemmican depends much on the fancy of 
the person eating it. There is no other article of food that 
bears the slightest resemblance to it, and as a consequence it 
is difficult to define its peculiar flavor by comparison. It may 
be prepared for the table in many different ways, the con- 
sumer being at full liberty to decide which is the least objec- 
tionable. The method largely in vogue among the voyageurs 
is that known as " pemmican straight," that is, uncooked. 
But there are several ways of cooking which improve its 
flavor to the civilized palate. There is rubciboo, which is a 
composition of potatoes, onions, or other esculents, and pem- 
mican, boiled up together, and, when properly seasoned, very 
palatable. In the form of richot, however, pemmican is best 
liked by persons who use it, and by the voyageurs. Mixed 
with a little flour and fried in a pan, pemmican in this form 
can be eaten, provided the appetite be sharp, and there is 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 



119 




I20 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

nothing else to be had. This last consideration is, however, 
of importance. 

As to the consumption of tea by the voyageuis, it is sim- 
ply enormous. The delay which would be occasioned were 
the demands of the men with reference to tea-drinking to be 
indulged, renders guides and steersmen peremptory in oppos- 
ing the ever-renewed proposition that the boat should be 
hauled-to, and the kettle put on the fire, wherever an inviting 
promontory presents itself along the route. 

After dinner the voyagciirs doffed the holiday-apparel in 
which the start had been made, appearing thereafter in trav- 
eling costume. These changes made, the ensemble of the 
crews became rougher, but more picturesque. Corduroy 
trousers, tied at the knee with beadwork garters, encased 
their limbs ; capotes were discarded, and striped shirts open 
in front, with cotton handkerchiefs tied sailor-fashion round 
their swarthy necks, took their place ; a scarlet sash encircled 
the waist of each, while moose-skin moccasins defended their 
feet. Their head-dresses were as various as fanciful — some 
trusted to their thickly-matted hair to guard them from the 
sun and rain ; some wore caps of coarse cloth, others twisted 
colored kerchiefs turban-fashion round their heads ; while 
one or two sported tall black hats covered so plenteously 
with tassels and feathers as to be scarcely recognizable. 
They were a wild yet handsome set of men, as they lay or 
stood in careless attitudes round the fires, puffing clouds of 
smoke from their ever-burning pipes. 

At the command of the guide, however, they fell to re- 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 121 

adjusting the cargoes of the boats for the passage of the lake, 
and the portages immediately beyond. For on the waters 
traversed by these brigades navigation is seriously interrupted 
by rapids, waterfalls and cataracts, to surmount which the 
■boats with their cargoes have to be landed and carried round 
the obstruction, to be relaunched at the nearest practicable 
point. Again it occurs that a height of land is reached, 
across which the boats and merchandise must be dragged in 
order to descend the opposite stream. In either event the 
process is technically known as " making a portage," and con- 
stitutes the hardest feature of the voyageur's labor. 

It is owing to the vast amount of handling, necessitated 
by the numerous portages intervening between the depot-forts 
and even the nearest inland districts, that the packing of mer- 
chandise becomes a matter of so great importance. The 
standard weight of each package used in the fur-trade is one 
hundred pounds, and each boat is supposed capable of con- 
taining seventy-five " inland pieces," as such packages are 
called. It is the method of reckoning tonnage in the coun- 
try. The facility with which such pieces are handled by the 
muscular tripmen is very remarkable — a boat being loaded 
by its crew of nine men in five minutes, and presenting a 
neat, orderly appearance upon completion of the operation. 

In crossing a portage, each boatman is supposed to be 
equal to the task of carrying two inland pieces upon his back. 
These loads are carried in such a manner as to allow the 
whole strength of the body to be put into the work. A broad 
leather band, called a "portage strap," is placed round the 



122 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

forehead, the ends of which strap, passing back over the 
shoulders, support the pieces which, thus carried, lie along 
the spine from the small of the back to the crown of the 
head. When fully loaded, the voyageur stands with his body 
bent forward, and with one hand steadying the pieces, he 
trots nimbly away over the steep and rock-strewn portage, his 
bare or moccasined feet enabling him to pass briskly over the 
slippery rocks in places where boots would inevitably send 
both tripman and load feet-foremost to the bottom. In the 
frequent unloading of the vessel, the task of raising the pieces 
and placing them upon the backs of the muscular voyageurs 
devolves upon the steersman ; and the task of raising seventy- 
five packages of one hundred pounds' weight from a position 
below the feet to a level with the shoulders, demands a greater 
amount of muscle than is possessed by the average man. 

Winnipeg, like all other great lakes, is liable to be visited 
with sudden storms, which, taking a boat by surprise while 
in the process of making a long traverse, might be attended 
with fatal consequences. The coasts, generally speaking, 
offer only a limited number of harbors for small boats, but 
these fortunately within a few hours' sail of each other. In 
the event of a boat being overtaken by a sudden tempest, it 
is sometimes necessary to make for the nearest land and 
"beach" her, carrying herself and cargo ashore by main 
force, over a considerable length of breaker-washed shore. 

It was for this reason, perhaps, that our guide marched 
solemnly to and fro upon the shingle, curiously examining, 
with twisted neck and upturned eyes, the signs of the 



VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 1 23 

weather ; and presenting, with his long blue great-coat and 
cautious gait, a somewhat quaint and antiquated spectacle. 
Having with some difficulty satisfied himself that the weather 
would hold good until we could reach the nearest harbor, he 
recalled the crews — who had scattered along-shore, smoking 
their pipes — and loosed from land. The lake, changeful as 
the ocean, was in its very calmest mood ; not a wave, not 
a ripple on its surface ; not a breath of air to aid the untiring 
paddles. The guide held his course far out into the glassy 
waste, leaving behind the marshy headlands which marked 
the river's delta. The point at which we had dined became 
speedily undistinguishable among the long line of apparently 
exactly similar localities ranging along the low shore. 

A long, low point reaching out from the south shore 
of the lake, was faintly visible on the horizon, and toward it 
our guide steered. The traveler, seated comfortably on the 
deck of the boat, indulged alternately in reading and smoking ; 
the whole style of progress being more like the realization of 
a scene from Telemaque or the ^neid, than a sober business 
voyage undertaken in the interests of a trading company of 
the present day. 

The red sun sank into the lake, warning us to seek the 
shore and camp for the night, as we reached the point toward 
which we steered. A deep, sandy bay, with a high background 
of woods and rocks, seemed to invite us to its solitude. The 
boats were moored in a recess of the bank, or drawn bodily 
upon the beach ; sails brought ashore, and roofs extemporized 
as protection against possible storms. Drift-wood was again 



124 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

collected, and active preparations for the evening meal ensued. 
Each boat's crew had a fire to itself, over which were placed 
gypsy-like tripods, from which huge tin kettles depended ; 
while above them hovered numerous volunteer cooks, who 
were employed in stirring their contents with persevering 
industry. The curling wreaths of smoke formed a black 
cloud among the numerous fleecy ones arising from the 
steaming kettles, while all around, in every imaginable atti- 
tude, sat, stood, and reclined the sunburned savage-looking 
voyageurs, laughing, chatting, and smoking, in perfect happi- 
ness. 

Meanwhile, the bedding of the traveler, after being un- 
wrapped from its protecting oil-cloths, was spread upon the 
ground. Bedding consists of, say, three blankets and a pil- 
low. The former are folded lengthways, and arranged on the 
oil-cloth, which, when camp is struck in the morning, is so 
rolled about them as to form a compact, portable bundle, 
when properly corded, practically impervious to weather. 

All occupations ceased at the call of the cooks, and the 
crews gathered round the camp-fire with their scant supply of 
tinware. The bill-of-fare was limited, as before, to pemmi- 
can and tea. As the brigade penetrates the interior, however, 
wild-fowl become abundant, and the stews more fragrant and 
savory. Supper over, half a dozen huge log-fires are lighted 
round about, casting a ruddy glow upon the surrounding foli- 
age, and the wild, uncouth figures of the voyageurs, with their 
long, dark hair hanging in luxuriant masses over their bronzed 
faces. They warm themselves in the cheerful glow, smoking 



.-; VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 12$ 

and chatting with much good-humor and carelessness of the 
day's adventures, or rather of what are regarded as such — un- 
usual good or ill-luck at fishing or hunting, the casual meet- 
ing of some aboriginal canoe, or the sight of some lone In- 
dian's leather lodge. Only the dense swarms of mosquitoes, 
which set in immediately after sunset, remind the traveler that 
he is not realizing a scene from tropical life. 

To be appreciated, the pain and inconvenience caused by 
the attacks of these little insects must be felt. They swarm 
in the woods and marshes, and, lying amid the shade of the 
bushes during the heat of the day, come abroad in the cool 
of the evening and make night hideous where no grateful 
breeze blows for the protection of the traveler. They form, 
in fact, the principal drawback to the pleasure of summer 
travel in the Fur Land. The voyageur, after working hard 
through the long, hot day, simply spreads the single blanket 
he is allowed to carry on the ground, and with no other cov- 
ering than the starry firmament above him, sleeps undisturbed 
till dawn ; only occasionally brushing away, as if by way of 
diversion, the most obtrusive of the little fiends. But the 
more refined and less case-hardened traveler suffers severely. 
In vain are trousers tied tightly about the ankles, and coat 
sleeves at the wrist, while mosquito veils surround the head. 
The enemy finds his way in single file through apertures un- 
seen by human eyes, and bites without mercy ; while his 
personal escape is secured by the impossibility of hunting 
him up without making way for the surrounding hosts of his 
confreres. For the victim, feeding under such circumstances 



126 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

is no easy matter. Independent of the loss of appetite occa- 
sioned by the nature of the situation, the veil must be removed 
to obtain access to the mouth, and the hands must be un- 
covered to work knife, fork, and spoon. Sleep is also to be 
obtained only for a few short, feverish moments at long inter- 
vals. Any attempt to gain repose by concealing one's self 
beneath the blankets is in vain ; and long before sleep can 
come, the baffled experimenter is compelled to emerge, half 
smothered, to breathe the sultry air. 

The traveler can, however, often have an awning fitted up 
over the stern-sheets of the boat, and sleep on board. By 
this arrangement, in the event of a favorable breeze blowing 
at daybreak, the crews can pursue their journey without dis- 
turbing him. On the other hand, the traveler is often called 
upon to give up the boat to the men during the night, so that 
they may be further removed from the mosquitoes, and better 
prepared for work on the ensuing day, when the passenger 
can make up for the night's sleeplessness. Under this system, 
then, the steersman occupies the stern-sheets, while the crew, 
by arranging the mast and oars lengthways over the boat, and 
stretching oil-cloths over the framework so formed, turn the 
vessel into one long, snug tent, in which they can rest in com- 
fort. This device is called a " tanley," the word being cor- 
rupted from the French " tcudre-le." 

In the early morning, before the mists had risen from the 
waters, the loud " Leve ! leve ! leve ! " of the guide roused the 
camp. Five minutes were sufficient to complete the trav- 
eler's toilet, tie up his blankets, and embark. The prows of 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS, 12/ 

the boat-brigade swung into the lake, and the day's voyage 
began. Usually a short sail is made until a favorable camp- 
ing-spot is reached, when the boats are again beached, and 
the breakfast prepared. Then succeeds a renewed plying of 
the oars, or, if tjie wind prove favorable, the sails are set, and 
the little fleet glides smoothly upon its way. When the wind 
is fair and the weather fine, boats make very long traverses, 
keeping so far out that, about the middle of the run, neither 
the point from which they started nor the one toward which 
they are steering is visible. In calm weather, however, when 
the oars are used, it is usual to keep closer in-shore, and make 
shorter traverses. The pursuit of game and wild-fowl, daily 
indulged in, tends to vary the monotony of the voyage. Oc- 
casionally the breeding-places of the latter are found, in which 
event the crews lay in a stock of eggs and young birds sufifi- 
cient for the voyage. Again, returning boats are encountered, 
and a short season devoted to the exchange of news and com- 
pliments. 

The wind springing up, the guide ordered all sail set, and 
stood far out into the lake. The boats of the brigade proving 
very unequal sailors, from difference of build and diverse 
lading, the white sails soon lost all semblance of line, and 
straggled over the placid waters of the lake, each upon its 
own tack. Nor did they meet again until we entered the 
mouth of Winnipeg River, shortly after mid-day, and prepared 
to encounter its twenty-seven portages, the first of which began 
but eight miles above the company's fort, at its delta. 

The Winnipeg River, with twice the volume of water the 



128 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

Rhine pours forth, descends three hundred and sixty feet in 
a distance of one hundred and sixty miles. This descent is 
not effected by a continuous decline, but by a series of ter- 
races at irregular distances from each other, thus forming innu- 
merable lakes and wide-spreading reaches, bound together by 
rapids and perpendicular falls of varying altitudes. It was 
over this pathway of rock and stream, of terrace and lagoon, 
that the course of the boat-brigade now lay. To describe the 
forcing of one barrier is only to iterate that of the one pre- 
ceding or following it. 

Passing through lonely lakes and island-studded bays, 
there sounds ahead the rush and roar of falling water ; and, 
rounding some pine-clad island, or projecting point, a tum- 
bling mass of foam and spray, studded with rocks and bor- 
dered with dark-wooded shores, bars the way. Above the 
falls nothing can be seen ; below, the waters boil in angry 
surge for a moment, then leap away in maddened flight, 
threatening to toss the well-laden boats like corks upon their 
sweeping surface. But against this boiling, rushing flood 
comes the craft and skill of the intrepid voyageiirs. They 
advance upon the fall as if it were an equally subtile enemy 
with themselves ; they steal upon it before it is aware. 
The immense volume of water, after its wild leap, lingers a 
moment in the huge cauldron at the foot of the fall ; then, 
escaping from the circling eddies and whirlpools, sweeps 
away in rushing flood into the calmer waters below. 

But this mighty rush in mid-stream produces a counter- 
current along-shore, which, taking an opposite turn, sweeps 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS, 1 29 

back nearly, if not quite, to the foot of the fall. Into this 
back-current the stealthy voyagcurs steer their well-laden 
boat. On one side the rocky bank towers overhead, slender 
pine and fir-trees finding precarious foothold in its crevices ; 
on the other, ofttimes but a yard from the advancing boat, 
sweeps the mad rush of the central current. Up the back- 
current goes the boat, driven cautiously by its oarsmen, until, 
just in advance of its bow, appears the whirlpool in which it 
ends, at the foot of the fall. To enter that revolving mass 
of water is to be wrecked in a twinkling ; to turn into the 
broad current of the mid-stream is, apparently, to be swept 
away in a moment of time. What next ? 

For a moment there is no paddling, the bowsman a!hd 
steersman alone keeping the boat in position, as she rapidly 
drifts into the whirlpool. Among the crew not a word is spoken, 
but every man is at his utmost tension, and awaiting the in- 
stant which shall call every muscle, nerve, and intelligence 
into play. Now the supreme moment has come ; for on one 
side begins the mighty rush of the mid-current, and on the 
other circle and twist the smooth, green, hollowing curves 
of the angry whirlpool, revolving round its axis of air with a 
giant strength that would overturn and suck down the stanch 
whale-boat in the twinkling of an eye. Just as the prow 
touches the angry curves, a quick shout is given by the bows- 
man, and the boat shoots full into the centre of the rushing 
stream, driven by the united efforts of the entire crew, supple- 
mented by extra oarsmen from the other boats. The men 

work for their very lives, and the boat breasts across the 
6* 



130 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

stream full in the face of the fall. The waters foam and dash 
around her ; the mad waves leap over the gunwale ; the voy- 
ageurs shout as they dash their oars like lightning into the 
flood ; and the traveler holds his breath amidst this war of 
man against Nature. But the struggle seems useless. Man 
can effect naught against such a torrent ; the boat is close 
against the rocks, and is driven down despite the rapid , 
strokes of the oarsmen. For an instant she pauses, as if gath- 
ering strength for her mad flight down the mid-channel. The 
dead strength of the rushing flood seems to have prevailed, 
when, lo ! the whole thing is done. A dexterous twist of the 
oars, and the boat floats suddenly beneath a little rocky isle 
in mid-stream, at the foot of the falls. The portage-landing 
is over this rock, while a few yards out on either side the 
mighty flood sweeps on its headlong course. A voyageiir leaps 
out on the wet, slippery rock, and holds the boat in place 
while the others get out. The cool fellows laugh as they sur- 
vey the torrent they have just defeated, then turn to carry 
the freight piece by piece up the rocky stairway, and deposit 
it upon the flat landing ten feet above. That accomplished, 
the boat is dragged over, and relaunched upon the very lip of 
the fall. 

But slightly different was the ascent of many of the rapids 
encountered from time to time. Upon arriving at one, ad- 
vantage was taken of the back-current near the banks to run 
up as far as the eddy would permit ; then the bowsman rose 
from his seat, and craned his neck forward to take a look be- 
fore attempting the passage. Signaling the route he intended 



A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 13I 

to pursue to the steersman, the boat at once shot into the 
chaos of boiling waters that rushed swiftly by. At first it 
was swept downward with the speed of an arrow, while the 
mad flood threatened to swamp it in a moment. To the trav- 
eler, unaccustomed to such perilous navigation, it seemed 
utter folly to attempt tlie ascent ; but a moment more 
revealed the plan, and brought the stanch craft into a tempo- 
rary harbor. Right in the middle of the central current a huge 
rock rose above the surface, while from its base a long eddy 
ran, like the gradually-lessening tail of a comet, nearly a score 
of yards down the stream. It was just opposite this rock 
that the voyagciirs had entered the rapid, and for which 
they paddled with all their might. The current, sweeping 
them down, brought the boat just to the extreme point of the 
eddy by the time mid-stream was reached, and a few vigor- 
ous strokes of the oars floated it quietly in the lee of the 
rock. A minute's rest, and the bowsman selected another 
rock a few yards higher up, but a good deal to one side. 
Another rush was made, and the second haven reached. In 
this way, yard by yard, the boat-brigade ascended for miles, 
sometimes scarcely gaining a foot; again, as a favoring bay or 
curve presented a long stretch of smooth water, advancing 
more rapidly. 

In rapids where the strength of the current forbade the 
use of oars, progress was made by means of the tracking-line. 
Tracking, as it is called, is dreadfully harassing work. Half 
the crew go ashore, and drag the boat slowly along, while the 
other half go asleep. After an hour's walk, the others take 



132 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

their turn, and so on, alternately, during the entire day. As 
the banks about the rapids were generally high and very pre- 
cipitous, the voyageurs had to scramble along, now close to 
the water's edge, again high up on the bank, on ledges 
where they could hardly find a footing, and where they re- 
sembled flies on a wall. The banks, too, composed of soft 
clay and mud, increased the labor of hauling ; but the light- 
hearted voyageurs seemed to think nothing of it, and laughed 
and joked as they toiled along, playing tricks upon each 
other, and plunging occasionally up to the waist in mud and 
water, with a reckless carelessness all their own. 

So, day after day^ the boat-brigade journeyed on ; through 
island-studded bays, over long reaches of limpid water whose 
placid surface not a ripple stirred, over turbid floods thick 
with the ooze of muddy banks, breasting fierce rapids, climb- 
ing thundering waterfalls ; sometimes making a fair day's 
travel, again, after a day of weary toil, bivouacking almost 
within sight of last. night's camp-fire. 

One day the traveler became aware of an undue bustle 
and excitement among the swarthy crews of the brigade. 
The pointed prows were turned shoreward and run upon a 
pebbly beach, affording easy access to the limpid water, and 
facing the warm rays of the sun. The voyageurs brought 
forth all the soiled clothing worn upon the journey, and a gen- 
eral scrubbing took place. Soon the bushes in the vicinity, 
the branches of the trees, and the flat rocks, bore plentiful 
burdens of gaudy-colored apparel, waving in the breeze to 
dry. Copious baths were next administered to their persons, 



VO YA GE WITH THE VO VA GEURS. 133 




134 



THE GREA T FUR LAND. 



capped by each man donning the bravest garments of his out- 
fit. Ribbons were braided in the hair, flashy sashes encircled 
their waists, and moccasins of bewildering beadwork encased 
their feet. Then, with a dash and wild chorus of boat-song, 
the oars were plied with quickly-measured stroke. Soon the 
sharp point of a headland was turned, and the Mission of the 
White Dog appeared, perched upon the precipitous banks of 
the stream. It was the end of the traveler's journey. A few 
huts, a few Indians, a company's trading-store, and an aroma 
of decaying fish which, amalgamating with the slight mist from 
the river, surrounded the traveler's head like an aureole. 




TKACKIXG. 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 



'' I ^HERE have now almost disappeared from the vast 
-*" buffalo- ranges extending between the Missouri and 
Saskatchewan Rivers the last vestiges of what were once the 
most perfectly-organized, effective, and picturesque periodi- 
cally-recurring hunting-excursions known to any nomadic peo- 
ples. They came within the lists, too, of what are technically 
known to sportsmen as " pot-hunts " — forming the almost en- 
tire support of certain well-defined border communities. 

For over half a century regiments of men — with a vast fol- 
lowing of retainers and impedimeiita — have swept over the 
plains twice annually, bearing slaughter and destruction to its 
shaggy denizens ; the product being sufficient to maintain a 
large colony with its various dependencies in plenty, and even 
in comparative luxury, for the remainder of the year. These 
hunts formed an almost certain means of livelihood, and, for 
the amount of labor required, offered inducements far superior 
to those of agriculture, or, indeed, any other pursuit which the 
scope of country presented. Moreover, they were especially 
adapted to the class Avith which they obtained — a class 
which, by reason of eminent fitness and efficiency, seemed 
particularly designed by Nature for the congenial calling. 



136 THE GREAT FUR LAXD. 

Suggested first by the necessities of a meagre handful of 
half-starved immigrants, they became at length the main- 
stay of a considerable population, and an important factor 
in the commerce of the world. Wherever a buffalo-robe is 
found, particularly in European markets, there may be seen 
the business-card of this vast pot-hunt ; sometimes repre- 
sented by the robe itself, again by certain hieroglyphics deco- 
rating its tanned side. And this (to many) cabalistic adver- 
tisement suggests the matter of the present chapter. 

In the year iSii the Earl of Selkirk purchased of the 
Hudson's Bay Company the ownership of a vast tract of land, 
including, as a small part of the whole, the ground occupied 
by a colony known, until its recent purchase by the Dominion 
Government, as Red River Settlement, near the foot of Lake 
Winnipeg, in British North America. On this territory Earl 
Selkirk had formed the Utopian idea of settling a populous 
colony, of which he should be the feudal lord. A compul- 
sory exodus of the inhabitants of the mountainous regions 
of the county of Sutherland, Scotland, taking place about 
that time, to make way for the working of the sterner 
realities of the system of land management which prevails 
on great estates in this prosaic nineteenth century, an op- 
portunity of easily obtaining the desired colonists for the 
occupation of his new purchase was thus presented. The first 
instalment of colonists reached the bay coast in the autumn 
of 181 1, advanced inland in the following spring, and, at the 
confluence of the Assiniboine and Red Rivers, about forty 
mile? ^'"om the foot of Lake Winnipeg, found themselves — 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 137 

metaphorically speaking — at home. They were in the centre 
of the American Continent, fifteen or sixteen hundred miles in 
direct distance from the nearest city residence of civilized man 
in America, and separated from the country whence they 
came by an almost impassable barrier. 

Unfortunately for the successful founding of an agricultu- 
ral colony, such as Lord Selkirk had planned, the rival French 
Canadian fur-companies, contending for the possession of the 
territory with the Hudson's Bay Company, chose to regard 
the new-comers as invaders, whose presence was detrimental 
to their interests ; and the Indians also objected to the culti- 
vation of their hunting-grounds. Between the persecutions of 
two such powerful enemies, the colonists made, after the de- 
struction of their crops and dwellings the first year, but little 
attempt at agriculture, and adopted, perforce, the nomadic 
life of the country, visiting the plains twice annually in pur- 
suit of buffalo. This mode of life obtained until the coalition 
of all the fur-companies, in the year 1821, increased the size 
of the colony by the acquisition of all the French hunters and 
traders — Avho selected rather to remain there than to return to 
Canada — and rendered the peaceful pursuit of agriculture 
possible. 

But it occurred that, by intermarriage with the aborigines, 
and ten years of the free, roving life of the plain-hunter, agri- 
culture had become distasteful to the younger portion of the 
sturdy Scots, while the French, of course, still clung to old 
habits, relying entirely upon the chase for a livelihood. So 
it happened that, while a small minority of the first colonists 



138 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

— those of advanced age — adopted the cultivation of the soil, 
the large majority of the eight or ten thousand people form- 
ing the settlement followed the chase ; thus presenting the 
anomaly of a settled, civilized community subsisting by the 
pursuits common to nomadic life ; in reality, civilized nomads. 
From those early days up to the present, when civilization by 
rapid strides has encroached upon and overrun that isolated 
locality, the same mode of life has obtained, with, until with- 
in the past ten years, no very perceptible change. The 
French portion of the colony rely entirely upon the chase, if 
we may except certain miniature attempts at farming ; the 
Scotch alternating between seasons of labor with plow and 
hoe and the semi-annual hunts ; the half-breed offspring of 
the latter instinctively adopting the chase. The world pre- 
sents no other such incongruous picture. 

It is not within our province to enter upon the details ot 
buffalo-hunting as practiced upon the plains, and with which, 
doubtless, all are familiar; but it may not be devoid of in- 
terest to follow this particular hunt to its termination, as pre- 
senting certain peculiarities not found elsewhere. 

The parties belonging to the summer hunt start about the 
beginning of June, and remain on the plains until the begin- 
ning of August. They then return to the settlements for a 
short time, for the purpose of trading the pemmican or dried 
meat, which forms the staple article of produce from the 
hunt. The autumn hunters start during the month of August, 
and remain on the prairie until the end of October, or early in 
November, when they usually return, bringing the fresh or 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 1 39 

" green meat," preserved at this late season by the extreme 
cold, and fall buffalo-robes. This latter hunt, including all 
the features of the former, we select as the subject of de- 
scription. 

After the return of the people from the summer hunt, and 
a short time allowed for the sale of their produce, a few of 
the recognized leaders of the chase assemble to arrange the 
time and place of a general rendezvous for the fall hunt. 
The time is always set for the first days of September, but the 
place of rendezvous changes from year to year, as the herds 
of buffalo are reported by the summer hunters as being close 
at hand or afar off. Of late years the rendezvous has been 
made at Pembina Mountain, a locality on the United States 
boundary-line in the northeast corner of Dakota Territory^ 
comparatively close at hand. From this point the hunt fre- 
quently divides into two sections, one proceeding in a south- 
erly, the other in a southwesterly direction. Both time and 
place having been designated by the (for the time) self-consti- 
tuted leaders of the hunt, the word at once passes through 
the colony by that subtile electricity' of gossip common to the 
frontier as elsewhere, but generally dignified by the name of 
. news. The rapidity with which it travels, too, suggests the 
entire needlessness of telegraphy. 

A particular date is determined upon for departure from 
the rendezvous, but it is customary to meet, if possible, some 
days previous to that time, in order that everything may be in 
perfect readiness. From the day of notification to that of de- 
parture for the rendezvous, the colony is in a constant state 



140 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

of preparation. In every door-yard may be seen the canvas 
tents and leather tepees of prospective hunters, stretched for 
repairs ; carts undergoing a like renovating process, and fences 
decorated with dislocated sets of harness ; guns and accoutre- 
ments burnished to an unwonted degree of effulgence ; ket- 
tles strewed about the yard, together with wooden trunks and 
other paraphernalia of the camp. As the time approaches for 
the meet, the well-worn trails leading toward the rendezvous 
become vividly alive with long trains of carts, oxen, ponies, 
and well-groomed runners used in the final chase. Each 
hunter takes, in addition to the carts necessary for the con- 
veyance of his family — for the women and children have their 
share in the labor equally with the men — a supply of extra 
vehicles in which to load the meat and robes falling to his 
share. And this train of carts, constantly augmented by new 
additions, marching in single file, for days seems interminable, 
sending up a refrain from ungreased axles that may be heard 
miles away on the prairie. 

While some of the carts are devoted to the conveyance of 
madame, the hunter's wife, and possibly the younger children, 
the remainder are filled at the start with tents, bedding, 
camp-equipage, and provisions sufficient to last until the buf- 
falo are reached. The ponies and oxen drawing them march 
in single file, and each one being tied to the tail of the vehicle 
before it, they become jammed together in a telescopic fash- 
ion when a sudden halt occurs in the line, and elongated on 
starting again in a way that is affecting to behold. About the 
train, as it creaks monotonously along, the loose animals are 



THE GREA T FALL HUNT. I4I 

driven, and what with their tramping feet and the dragging 
gait of the cart-animals the little caravan is likely to be hid- 
den from view in the dark clouds of dust arising from the 
well-worn trails. The rate of travel, estimated entirely by 
time, is about twenty miles per day, and at this pace nearly 
four days are required to reach the rendezvous. 

Pembina Mountain rises on the north and east in a series 
of table-lands, each table about half a mile in width, sparsely 
timbered, and bountifully supplied with springs. On its 
western slope, at the base of which runs the Pembina River, 
the mountain terminates abruptly. Across the stream, flow- 
ing deep below the surface in a narrow valley, the banks 
remain of about an equal height with the mountain, stretch- 
ing away toward the Missouri in a bare, treeless plain, broken 
only by the solitary elevation in the dim distance of Ne-pauk- 
wa-win (Dry Dance Hill). On this bank of the river is the 
rendezvous, selected in accordance with an invariable rule of 
prairie-travel — to always cross a stream on the route before 
camping. As wood is not to be had on the western bank, 
each hunter cuts a supply for his camp-fires as he passes over 
the mountain ; and, as no more timber will be encountered 
during the hunt, he also carefully selects an abundant supply 
of poplar-poles upon which to hang the meat to dry after the 
chase, and for use as frames in stretching robes to be tanned. 

As hour after hour and day after day the carts come 
straggling in, sometimes a single hunter with his outfit of 
from three to ten carts, again a train so swollen by contribu- 
tions along the road as to number hundreds, the camp of ren- 



142 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

dezvous enlarges its borders, and presents a scene both novel 
and picturesque. The elevated plain on the immediate banks 
of the stream is covered with a motley grouping of carts, can- 
vas tents, smoke-brown leather tepees, and, in lieu of other 
shelter, small squares of cotton or raw-hide stretched from 
cart to cart, or over a rough framework of poles. For miles 
around the prairie is alive with ponies, hoppled, tied to lariat- 
pins, or dragging about poles as a preventive against straying. 
Mingled with this kicking, neighing herd wander hundreds of 
oxen — patient, lowing kine, the youthful vivacity of which 
has given place to middle-aged steadiness. Through this 
compact mass of animal life gallop with a wild scurry, from 
time to time, half-nude boys, breaking a narrow pathway in 
search of some needed ox or pony, or hurrying the whole 
struggling mass riverward. 

In the camp the sole occupation of the day is the pursuit 
of pleasure. From every tent and shelter comes the sound of 
laughter ; every camp-fire furnishes its quota of jest and 
song. Here a small but excited circle, gathered under the 
shade of a cart, are deeply engaged in gambling by what is 
known as the "moccasin-game." In an empty moccasin are 
placed sundry buttons and bullets, which, being shaken up, 
involve the guessing of the number in the shoe. The ground 
is covered with guns, capotes, and shirts, the volatile half- 
breed often stripping the clothing from his back to satisfy his 
passion for play, or staking his last horse and cart. There 
another like-minded party are gambling with cards, the stakes 
being a medley of everything portable owned by the players. 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. I43 

In many tents rum is holding an orgy, and the cHnking of 
cups, boisterous laughter and song, tell of the presence of the 
direst enemy of the hunter. In another quarter feasting is 
the order of the day, and the small stock of provisions, de- 
signed to supply the family until the buffalo were reached, is 
being devoured at a sitting. The host knows this ; but, 
then, he selects a feast and its consequent famine. Yonder 
tawny Pyramus is making love to dusky Thisbe after the 
most approved fashion. They seem indifferent to the ex- 
posure of the camp, and conduct their wooing as if no curi- 
ous eyes were upon them. About the many camp-fires 
stand, or crouch, the wives of the hunters, busily engaged in 
culinary operations, or gossiping with neighbors, while their 
numerous scantily-attired offspring play about in the dust and 
dirt with wolfish-looking dogs. The baby of the family, 
fastened to a board, leans against a cart-wheel, doubtless re- 
volving in its infantile mind those subtile questions pertinent 
to babyhood. 

Gathered in a circle apart are likely to be found the aged 
leaders of the hunt, engaged in discussion of the weightier 
matters of the time ; but, from the broad smiles lighting up 
their bronzed features at times, it is doubtful whether many of 
the subjects are relevant. Perched high on a cart-wheel, 
farther on, sits a long-haired Paganini, drawing rude melo- 
dies from an antiquated and fractured violin. About him 
are congregated a crowd of delighted hearers, suggesting new 
tunes, requesting the loan of the instrument long enough to 
exhibit their own skill, or, seized with the infection, suddenly 



144 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

breaking into an improvised break-down, or executing a pas 
seul the very embodiment of caricature. Reclining under the 
shade of carts, in every possible attitude, lie weary hunters 
indulging in a siesta, from which to be rudely awakened by 
some practical joke of their fellows, only to find themselves 
bound hand and foot. Again, the awaking is made in a man- 
ner more congenial by the mellow gurgling of proffered liquor 
held to the lips. About the outskirts of the camp the veteran 
horse-trader plies his calling, painting the merits of the animal 
in hand in vivid colcur de rose. Above all rises the clamor 
of many tongues, speaking many languages, the neighing of 
horses, the lowing of kine, the barking of hundreds of dogs, 
and the shouts and yells of fresh arrivals, as they pour hourly 
in to swell the numbers of the already vast encampment. 

In the afternoon, if the day be propitious, the camp be- 
comes for a time comparatively deserted, the noise and ex- 
citement being temporarily transferred to the distance of a 
mile or more upon the prairie. Here the hunter presents a 
totally different appearance from the lounging, tattered, un- 
kempt personage of the morning. He has donned his holiday 
apparel, appearing in all the bravery of new moccasins, tas- 
seled cap, gaudy shirt, fine blue capote, and corduroy trou- 
sers. His sash is of the most brilliant pattern, and wound 
about his waist to make its broadest display. He is mounted 
upon his best horse, with bridle and saddle decked with 
ribbons and bravery, and has suddenly become an alert, 
active, volatile, and excitable being, constantly gesticulating, 
shouting, and full of life. A straight course is marked off 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. I45 

upon the prairie of, say, half a mile in length. After well- 
known leaders of the hunt have been stationed at either end, 
the racing begins. Betting runs high, the wagers of the prin- 
cipals being generally horse against horse, those of outsiders 
ranging from valuable horses down through carts and oxen to 
the clothing worn at the moment. All is excitement, and as 
the contestants dash forward, with that peculiar plunging of the 
heel? into the flanks of the horses at every jump, affected by 
the plain-hunter, it breaks forth in cheers and gesticulations 
of encouragement to the favorite. All points of disagreement 
are quickly settled by the dictum of the umpires, and the loser 
quietly strips saddle and bridle from his much-prized 
animal, and consoles himself for the loss in copious draughts 
of rum. 

To the regular courses of the day succeed a multitude of 
scrub-races, gotten up on the spur of the moment, and involv- 
ing almost every article of property as the wagers. Horses, 
oxen, tents, guns, clothing, provisions, and spirits, change 
hands with wonderful celerity, and to an accompaniment of 
shouts and gesticulations that would do no discredit to Bed- 
lam. The sport continues with but little abatement through- 
out the afternoon, the races gradually growing shorter, how- 
ever, and the wagers of more trifling value. 

Toward night the huge cam > becomes again resonant with 
a more intense Babel of sounds. The lucky winner on the 
race-course parades his gains, and depicts in graphic panto- 
mime his share in the sports ; while the loser bewails his losses 

in maudlin tones, or arranges the terms of a new race for the 

7 



146 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

morrow. The betting of the afternoon is succeeded by the 
deeper gambUng of the evening ; and the sounds of shuffling 
cards, the clinking of the buttons and bullets of the moccasin- 
game, and the exclamations of triumph and despair of winner 
and loser, are everywhere heard. Rum flows freely ; for each 
hunter brings a supply to tide him over the grand encamp- 
ment, and start him fairly on his journey. As the night ad- 
vances, the camp grows more and more boisterous, the confu- 
sion worse confounded. The women disappear from the 
camp-fires, and betake themselves to tents out of harm's way. 
Drunken men reel about the flaming fires ; wild yells fill the 
still air ; quarrels are engendered ; fierce invectives in many 
tongues roll from angry lips, and the saturnalia becomes gen- 
eral. The camp-fires light up the strange scene with a lurid 
glare, and tent, cart, and awning, cast fantastic shadows over 
all. The orgy continues late in the night, and, when the fires 
flicker and die out, their last feeble glow reveals shadowy 
forms stretched promiscuously about, sleeping the sleep of 
drunkenness. 

With the first glow of coming dawn, the camp rouses into 
life and vigor again. The headaches and fevers engendered 
by the debauch of the previous night are carried patiently by 
their owners to the river's brink, and bathed in its cooling 
waters. The women once more appear about the camp-fires, 
clad in dark-blue calico — which so effectually conceals suc- 
ceeding accumulations of dirt — busied in preparations for the 
morning meal. Their lords stand moodily near to obtain a 
share of the heat ; for the mornings are chilly and raw. And, 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 1 47 

as the excitement of the previous day has been dissipated by- 
sleep, and that of the opening day is still to come, the fea- 
tures of the plain-hunter are in repose, betraying at a glance 
the nature of his employment. The theory that one's daily 
life leaves its impress upon the face meets with no more ample 
corroboration than here. The countenance at first sight 
would be taken for that of a resolute, reckless, and determined 
man. It is deeply bronzed by exposure, and is marked by 
numerous hard lines sharply defined about the mouth and 
eyes. Somewhat Assyrian in type, yet it expresses a certain 
cunning combined with its resolution ; the eyes are watchfully 
vigilant ; the square lower jaw prominent and firmly set ; the 
nose straight and somewhat hooked ; the cheeks rather sunken 
and sparsely bearded. A faint glow of excitement, however, 
instantly changes the expression : it becomes alert, volatile, 
all alive — a face to dare any thing, to plunge into danger from 
mere love of it, and yet not a labor-loving face, nor one capa- 
ble of sustained effort in any direction not attended with the 
e.xcitement of physical risk. 

This type of countenance pervades the camp more or less. 
It assumes its deepest tints in the old hunters, degenerating 
into a haggard, reckless air, and finds its mildest phase in the 
newly-fledged buffalo-runner, about whose eyes the inevitable 
marks are but beginning to form. It is not, perhaps, so much 
the danger that paints these lines of life in sombre hues upon 
the face, as the wild, reckless racing and slaughter of the final 
chase — a chase leading for miles, and extending through long 
hours, keeping nerve, muscle, and mind, at their utmost ten- 



148 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

sion, and all bent upon slaughter. But, whatever the cause, 
certain it is that no class of men more distinctly marked by 
the characteristics of their vocation exist than the members of 
this hunt. Even the women assume, after a time, the reckless 
air of their husbands and brothers engaged in it. 

The most positive, perhaps, of the recognized laws regulat- 
ing the camp of rendezvous is that forbidding the departure 
of any one from its limits after having once entered it. This 
is to guard against covering the plains with straggling bands 
of hunters whose presence would inevitably drive the buffalo 
from their usual range. By reason of this self-imposed law, no 
one attemps to leave the main body until all the hunters have 
arrived — an event which generally occurs within a week from 
the first formation of the camp. During that period the time 
is passed much in the fashion above described, and, as a con- 
sequence of so continuous a series of dissipations, all are 
eager tolDreak camp and start upon the long journey. The 
day previous to that appointed for departure, however, is set 
apart for the election of the officers of the hunt, and the 
transaction of such other business as the exigencies of the 
time suggest. 

By this date the hunters are supposed to be all in, and pre- 
pared as well as they ever will be for departure. The encamp- 
ment has swollen almost beyond available limits, and become 
dissipated and unruly to a degree. From two thousand to 
twenty-five hundred carts line the banks ; three thousand 
animals graze within sight upon the prairie ; one thousand 
men, with their following of women and children, find shelter 



THE GREA T FALL HUNT. I49 

under carts, and in the tents and tepees of the encampment ; 
the smoke of the camp-fires almost obscures the sun ; and 
the Babel of sounds arising from the laughing, neighing, bark- 
ing multitude, resembles the rush of many waters. 

Immediately after breakfast of the day previous to that 
appointed for departure from the rendezvous, all the males of 
the camp repair to a point a short distance off upon the prai- 
rie, where gathered in a huge circle, they proceed to the elec- 
tion of officers for the coming hunt. The votes are given first 
for a chief, who shall see that all laws are enforced, and shall 
have the power of settling all disputes. To this office is 
almost invariably elected an old hunter, prominent both on 
account of experience and executive ability, and for whose 
comparatively exemplary life all entertain respect. The 
second ballot elects twelve counselors who, with the chief, 
make the laws, decide the direction of travel, and advise the 
executive in all matters of doubtful propriety. These per- 
sons, being necessarily men of experience, are chosen also 
from the elderly men of the camp, or those who have followed 
plain-hunting for many years. The third ballot is cast for 
the election of four captains, each of whom will command a 
certain number of men, called soldiers, who become the police 
•of the hunt, mounting guard against Indians, arranging the 
shape of the camp — an outer circle formed of carts, inside of 
which the tents and animals are placed — keeping watch over 
private property, arresting offenders, etc. These four men 
must be of a determined mould, and are chosen from the 
middle-aged hunters whose courage and vigilance are ap- 



150 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

proved. Lastly, four guides are elected, who are to lead 
the train in the direction indicated by the chief and counselors. 
This position, involving a thorough knowledge of the country, 
is always filled from the ranks of the older hunters, whose 
many years of service have rendered them acquainted with 
every foot of the territory to be traversed. With this last 
office the election terminates. 

Before the crowd disperses, the chief and counselors 
have framed a code of laws which is to govern the multitude 
during the period covered by the hunt. This code varies a 
little, perhaps, in phraseology from year to year, but is gene- 
rally of the following substance : 

1. No running of buffalo is permitted on the Sabbath- 
day. 

2. No member of the hunt to lag behind, go before, or 
fork off from the main body, unless by special permission of 
the chief. 

3. No person or party to run buffalo before the general 
order is given, in which the entire hunt may participate. 

4. Every captain, with his men, to patrol the camp in 
turn, in order that a continual watch may be kept. 

Penalties. — For the first offence, the saddle and bridle of 
the offender to be cut up. 

2. The offender to have his coat cut up. 

3. The offender to be publicly flogged. 

Any penalty is foregone, however, if the guilty party pay 
a stipulated sum in money, meat, or robes, for each offence. 
In case of theft the perpetrator is to be taken to the mid- 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 151 

die of the camp, his name called aloud thrice, the word 
" thief " being added. 

The election having furnished the hunt with the requisite 
officers, and a code of laws providing for all the necessities 
and emergencies incident to its nomadic life, the huge en- 
campment begins at once to feel their salutary effect. By- 
eventide the soldiers are selected from the numbers of the 
young men, and a relief patrols the camp — for the laws are 
enforced from the moment of their enactment. The effect is 
perceptible in the lessened confusion, the cessation of public 
drinking and gambling, and a general air of order and rou- 
tine. The dissipation of the past week is replaced by atten- 
tion to the details of the coming journey. Everything is 
made ready for an early departure on the morrow. The 
chief and his counselors assemble in the centre of the camp 
and discuss the most advisable route to pursue ; the council 
being open to outsiders having suggestions to offer. The cap- 
tains of the guard pass through the camp in all directions, 
issuing orders as to the disposition of animals, carts, and bag- 
gage, in such manner as to afford the best facilities for easy 
and rapid loading. Play-day is over, and the real busi- 
ness of the hunt begins. After the lapse of a night which, 
in its quietude, forms a violent contrast with the seven 
or more preceding it, the camp of rendezvous is broken up, 
and the caravan begins to move. 

The fortunate traveler who, standing upon the edge of 
the Sahara, has seen a caravan trailing out into the barren 
and interminable sand-dunes of the desert, the main body 



15? THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

tortuous and serpentine, the fast-disappearing head swaying 
to and fro in the dim distance, has but few features of the 
scene to change in depicting the departure of this mongrel 
hunt for the barren buffalo-ranges of the plains. With the 
first gleam of morning, before the mists have lifted from the 
river, the flag of the guide is raised and the huge train starts 
upon its way. One by one the carts fall into line, following 
each other in single file, until the last vehicle has left the 
camp of rendezvous. The train is now five miles in length, its 
width varying from half a mile to a mile, as the press of loose 
animals is greater or less. The creaking of the loose cart- 
frames, the screech of ungreased axles, the shouts of wild 
riders as they dash along the length of the train or off upon 
the prairie in quest of some stray animal, the neighing of 
horses, the lowing of kine, make a pandemonium of sounds 
that may be heard miles away upon the plain. At the ex- 
treme front rides a staid guide bearing a white flag, which 
when raised, indicates a continuance of the march, and, when 
lowered, the signal to halt and camp. About this standard- 
bearer move, with grave demeanor, as becomes those charged 
with important trusts, the old chief and counselors of the 
hunt. 

Along the line of march are scattered the four captains of 
the guard, who, with their men, keep order in the line. 
Here rides on a sleek runner the average hunter, in corduroy 
and capote, bronzed, sparsely bearded, volatile, and given 
to much gesticulation ; next, an Indian, pure and simple, 
crouched upon the back of his shaggy, unkempt pony, with- 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. I 53 

out saddle, and using a single cord as bridle — a blanketed, 
hatless, " grave and reverend seignior," speaking but seldom, 
and then only in monosyllables ; then a sandy-haired and 
canny Scot, clad in homespun, and with keen grey eyes wide 
open for the main chance, eager for trade, but reckless and 
daring as any hunter of them all, bestriding a large-boned, 
well-accoutred animal, and riding it like a heavy dragoon ; 
here, again, a pink-cheeked sprig of English nobility, doing 
the hunt from curiosity, and carefully watched over by a 
numerous retinue of servants and retainers. He has in his 
outfit all the latest patterns of arms, the most comprehensive 
of camp-chests, and impedimenta enough for a full company 
of plain-hunters. From every covered cart in the long train 
peer the dusky faces of Phyllis and Thisbe, sometimes chat- 
ting gayly with the tawny cavaliers riding alongside ; again, 
engaged in quieting the demonstrations of a too lively pro- 
geny. In the bottom of every tenth vehicle, stretched upon 
its back in the soft folds of a robe or tent, and kicking its 
tiny pink heels skyward, lies the ever-present baby — a laugh- 
ing, crowing, dusky infant, clad in the costume of the Greek 
slave, and apparently impervious to the chill air of the early 
morning. Scattered about among the throng of marching 
animals ride the boys, servants, and younger men, engaged in 
keeping the long line in motion. Everywhere there is a glint 
of polished gun-barrels, a floating of party-colored sashes, a 
reckless careering to and fro, a wild dash and scurry, a wav- 
ing of blankets, shouts, dust, noise, and confusion. 

As the day advances, the march becomes more toilsome. 



I 54 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

The prairie, freed from the morning dews and heated by the 
sun, sends up dense clouds of dust from beneath the tramp- 
ing hoofs, half concealing the long caravan. Oftentimes the 
trail passes over immense tracts ravaged by prairie-fires, 
where the earth presents naught save the dense coating of 
black ashes. In this event the train is likely to be com- 
pletely enshrouded in the penetrating dust, filling mouths, 
ears, and eyes, with its pungent particles, and discoloring 
everything it touches. Animals and men suffer alike, and 
the cooling, if not crystal, waters of the streams and creeks 
crossing the line of march occasion a general rush for relief. 
To avoid a long-continued trailing of dust — which bids fair 
to suffocate the rear end of the train in the event of a slight 
wind blowing, as is nearly always the case upon the prairie — 
the caravan is frequently divided into four or five columns, 
marching parallel with one another, each column nearly a 
mile in length. When the march assumes this form, as it 
nearly always does when the lay of the prairie permits, its 
picturesque aspect deepens, and progress becomes more 
rapid. It seems like the serried ranks of an invading army 
advancing with slow but certain steps. The centre column 
then becomes the guide, and at its head the flag of march is 
held aloft. 

With the exception of a short halt at noon, when no at- 
tempt at camping is made, the columns merely halting in line 
and loosing the animals for the hour during which dinner is 
prepared, the march continues in this monotonous but pic- 
turesque fashion until an early hour in the evening, when the 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 155 

flag of the guide is lowered and the train forms the night- 
camp. One by one the carts wheel into a vast circle, oft- 
times two and three deep, the trains of each vehicle pointing 
inward, until the complete figure is formed. The animals, 
after being loosed, are turned out upon the prairie until 
toward night, when they are again driven within the circle. 
Another smaller line, following that of the carts and leaving 
a considerable space between the two for the reception of 
the animals, is formed by the tents, each with its camp-fire 
burning before it. Directly in the centre of the camp are 
pitched the tepees of the chief and counselors, in order to be 
readily accessible for consultation at all times. The camp 
is at once efficiently policed, and the best of order prevails. 
The tramp of the day produces its natural effect, and, after 
supper and the usual season of fumigation, the bustle and 
confusion attendant upon so vast a collection of men and 
animals die out. A little knot of the older hunters perhaps 
linger in consultation about the central camp-fire for a time ; 
but soon naught is heard save the tramping of horses and 
oxen, or the startled exclamations of some sleeper suddenly 
aroused by the unceremonious entrance of a wandering ani- 
mal into his tent. Not even the vigilant guard is to be 
seen ; but let any one attempt to leave the camp, and 
shadowy figures will arise like magic from the grass without 
the circle, barring his further progress. 

At earliest dawn the march is again resumed ; the inci- 
dents of one day being but a repetition of that preceding, if 
vve except Sunday. No law of the code, perhaps, is less 



I 56 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

seldom violated than that governhig the observance of this 
day, so far as it applies to the labors of the hunt. The letter 
of the law is strictly observed : no buffalo are run ; but 
of its further observance ? — well, let us see. 

The camp of Saturday night is located, if possible, con- 
tiguous to a plentiful supply of water, and amid an abundance 
of buffalo-chips, which have long since taken the place of 
wood as fuel. The Sunday breakfast is apt to be a late one, 
and eaten at leisure. Immediately after it, however, the en- 
tire camp moves as one man a short distance upon the prai- 
rie. It frequently happens that a priest is with the party ; if 
not, an acolyte celebrates a kind of open-air mass, the whole 
assembly kneeling with uncovered heads upon the level plain 
during its continuance. The devotions are apparently heart- 
felt and solemn ; the rattling of beads, the muttering of pray- 
ers, and the louder response, alone breaking the Sabbath 
stillness. No Christian church in the city .presents a more 
devout and chastened aspect. The Avild, reckless, swearing 
hunter of an hour before has become a penitent soul, counting 
his beads with a look of pathetic prayerfulness affecting to 
behold. The services continue an hour or more, but the de- 
vout assembly stirs not. The sun gleams down upon un- 
covered heads, and glances into unprotected eyes, powerless 
to distract attention from the mass. Thus did the warlike 
Crusaders pause amid their tempestuous lives to call upon the 
source of all blessings ; so did the Israelites in the wilderness, 
bearing about the Ark of the Covenant. The plain-hunter's 
devoutness arises in a measure, however, from the fact of 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 157 

having to pray for all the rest of the week ; for on the inter- 
vening six days his language is anything but that of prayer. 
All things have an end, and so finally has the mass, for which 
the assembly seem more than ever to be thankful, and l^etake 
themselves to camp again for dinner. 

The afternoon is not given to devotion. It has happened 
on the evenings of the previous march that Franyois, or 
Pascal, or Pierre, has paraded the camp, shouting in stentorian 
tones, " I, Pierre, challenge Francois to race his bay horse 
against my grey, the stakes to be horse against horse !" or, " I, 
Antoine, challenge the camp to race against my roan for an 
ox and cart !" These challenges have been accepted, hands 
shaken in confirmation of the agreement, and the race ap- 
pointed to take place the following Sunday afternoon. So it 
occurs that a sufficient number of races are on the tapis to 
occupy the entire time. 

The chief is now, by virtue of his office, the umpire, and 
lends his presence to render the sport legitimate and of ac- 
knowledged character. What was once governed by individual 
honor is now enforced by law. The counselors take places at 
either end of the course as judges. The police are present to 
preserve order and enforce the decisions of the judges. The 
camp turns out en masse in holiday attire to witness the sport, 
and all is excitement, gesticulation, shouting, and confusion. 
The wagers rapidly change hands ; ponies and carts multiply 
upon the fortunate winner ; favorite runners are lost to others 
whose almost sole dependence rested upon them. Many 
having lost ponies, oxen, carts, and runners, by racing or 



158 THE GREA T EUR LAND. 

gambling, now stake their own services as servants upon the 
issue of a final race, and accept defeat with the philosophy of 
stoics. The excitement engended by the sports of the after- 
noon follows the hunter on his return to camp, and the day 
which began with prayer and devotion terminates in clamor, 
quarreling, and drink, if obtainable. More license prevails 
than is allowed upon other days, and, morally considered, the 
time had been far better passed in the usual occupations of 
the hunt. 

As the hunt approaches the scene of its labors scouts are 
daily sent out to ascertain, if possible, the direction in which 
the large herds of buffalo are feeding. No attention is paid 
to the small bands that are encountered from day to day, and 
firing at them is strictly forbidden. The object is to encounter 
the main herds, when all the hunters may participate in the 
chase with equal chances of success. The longing for fresh 
meat, however, becomes at times too much for half-breed en- 
durance, and to gain the coveted morsel, and avoid infringing 
the law, an amusing method of capture is resorted to. 

Two active hunters, taking in their hands the long lines of 
raw-hide, called " shagnappe," isolate a cow from the herd. 
Then, seizing either end of the line, they proceed to revolve 
about their victim in opposite directions, so entwining her 
legs in the folds of the cord as to throw her to the ground by 
the very struggles she makes to escape. Once down, a few 
dexterous twists of the line secure her head, and a knife fin- 
ishes the work. This sport furnishes considerable excitement, 
and is much affected as a relief from the monotony of the 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 159 

daily jog. Then, too, it supplies what is likely to be by this 
time a much-needed article — food. Strange as it may appear, 
the improvident plain-hunter scarcely ever begins his Journey 
with a stock of provisions sufficient to last until the buffalo 
are reached. And all the lessons taught by years of experi- 
ence and semi-annual privation and suffering have failed to 
impress him with the necessity of a more ample supply. Four 
or five days out from the camp of rendezvous, frequently in 
less time, half the train is invariably destitute of food. But 
little appearance of it, however, is presented to the spectator. 
The volatile hunter laughs and jokes and starves with a sang- 
froid truly admirable. For all that, he borrows of his neigh- 
bor, begs piteously for his children, or, when absolutely forced 
to it, kills a pony or ox to replace the provision he might easily 
have brought. Before this stage is reached, however, in nearly 
every covered cart of the line may be heard children crying 
for food, and wives pleading for the means of satisfying them. 
At length the scouts, who for days have been scouring the 
prairie in every direction, bring the welcome intelligence of 
the discovery of the main herds. The line of march is at 
once turned toward the point indicated, and the laws against 
firing and leaving the main body are rigidly enforced. The 
long train moves cautiously and as silently as possible. Ad- 
vantage is taken of depressions in the prairie to keep the train 
concealed from the buffalo, and not a sound is raised that 
may give warning of its presence. Approach is made as 
closely as may be compatible with safety, always keeping to 
the windward of the herd. Then, if a convenient locality is 



l6o THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

reached, camp is made, and busy preparations for the ensuing 
hunt begin. Guns are carefully scanned, powder-flasks and 
bullet-pouches filled, saddles and bridles examined, and, above 
all, the horses to be used in the final chase carefully groomed, 
for highest among his possessions the plain-hunter ranks his 
"buffalo-runner." It is to him like the Arab's steed — a daily, 
comrade to be petted and spoken to, the companion of his long 
journeys, and the means of his livelihood. 

The buffalo-runner belongs to no particular breed, the 
only requisites being speed, tact in bringing his rider along- 
side the retreating herd and maintaining a certain relative 
distance while there, and the avoiding the numerous pitfalls 
with which the prairie abounds. Horses well trained in 
these duties, and possessing the additional requisite of speed, 
command high prices in the hunt, often ranging from fifty to 
eighty pounds sterling. On the hunt they are seldom used 
for any other purpose than that of the final race, except it 
may be to occasionally draw the cart of madame at times 
when her neighbor appears in unwonted attire. 

Before daybreak on the following morning — for a chase is 
seldom begun late in the day — the great body of hunters are 
off under the guidance of scouts in pursuit of the main herd. 
A ride of an hour or more brings them within, say, a mile of 
the buffalo, which have been moving slowly off as they ap- 
proached. The hunt up to this time has moved in four col- 
umns, with every man in his place. As they draw nearer at 
a gentle trot, the immense herd breaks into a rolling gallop. 
Now the critical and long-desired moment has arrived. The 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. l6l 

chief gives the signal. " Allee ! allee ! " he shouts, and a 
thousand reckless riders dash forward at a wild run. Into 
the herd they penetrate; along its sides they stretch, the 
trained horses regulating their pace to that of the moving 
mass beside them; guns flash, shots and yells resound; the 
dust arises in thick clouds over the struggling band ; and the 
chase sweeps rapidly over the plain, leaving its traces behind 
in the multitude of animals lying dead upon the ground, or 
feebly struggling in their death-throes. The hunter pauses 
not a moment, but loads and fires with the utmost rapidity, 
pouring in his bullets at the closest range, often almost 
touching the animal he aims at. To facilitate the rapidity 
of his fire he uses a flint-lock, smooth-bore trading-gun, and 
enters the chase with his mouth filled with bullets. A hand- 
ful of powder is let fall from the powder-horn, a bullet is 
dropped from the mouth into the muzzle, a tap with the butt- 
end of the firelock on the saddle causes the salivated bullet 
to adhere to the powder during the moment necessary to de- 
press the barrel, when the discharge is instantly effected 
without bringing the gun to the shoulder. 

The excitement which seizes upon the hunter at finding 
himself surrounded by the long-sought buffalo is intense, 
and sometimes renders him careless in examining too closely 
whether the object fired at is a buffalo or a buffalo-runner 
mounted by a friend. But few fatal accidents occur, how- 
ever, from the pell-mell rush and indiscriminate firing; but 
it frequently happens that guns, as the result of hasty and 
careless loading, explode, carrying away part of the hands 



l62 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

using them, and even the most expert runners sometimes 
find their way into badger-holes, breaking or dislocating the 
collar-bones of the riders in the fall. 

The identification of the slain animals is left till the run is 
over. This is accomplished by means of marked bullets, the 
locality in which the buffalo lies — for which the hunter always 
keeps a sharp lookout — and the spot where the bullet en- 
tered. By the time the hunters begin to appear, returning 
from the chase, there have arrived long trains of carts from 
the camp to carry back the meat and robes. The animals 
having been identified, the work of skinning and cutting up 
begins, in which the women and children participate. In a 
remarkably brief time the plain is strewed with skeletons 
stripped of flesh, and the well-loaded train is on its return. 
Arrived at camp, the robes are at once stretched upon a 
frame-work of poles, and the greater part of the flesh scraped 
from them, after which they are folded and packed in the 
carts to receive the final dressing in the settlement. Of the 
meat, the choicest portions are packed away without further 
care, to be freighted home in a fresh state, the cold at that 
late season effectually preserving it. Large quantities are, 
however, converted into pemmican, in which shape it finds its 
•readiest market. 

Pemmican forms the principal product of the summer 
buffalo-hunt, when, to preserve from decay the vast quantities 
of meat taken, some artificial process is necessary. A large 
amount is also made in the earlier part of the autumn hunt. 
To manufacture pemmican the fiesh of the buffalo is first cut 



THE GREAT FALL HUNT. 1 63 

up into large lumps, arid then again into flakes or thin slices, 
and hung up in the sun or over the fire to dry. When it is 
thoroughly desiccated it is taken down, placed upon raw-hides 
spread out upon the prairie, and pounded or beaten some- 
times by wooden flails, again between two stones, until the 
meat is reduced to a thick, flaky substance or pulp. Bags 
made of buffalo hide, with the hair on the outside, about the 
size of an ordinary pillow or flour-sack, say two feet long, one 
and a half feet wide and eight inches thick, are standing 
ready, and each one is half filled with the powdered meat. 
The tallow or fat of the buffalo, having been boiled by itself 
in a huge cauldron, is now poured hot into the oblong bag in 
which the pulverized meat has previously been placed. The 
contents are then stirred together until they have been thor- 
oughly mixed ; the dry pulp being soldered down into a hard 
solid mass by the melted fat poured over it. When full the 
bags are sewed up as tightly as possible, and the pemmican 
allowed to cool. Each bag weighs one hundred pounds, the 
quantity of fat being nearly half the total weight, the whole 
composition forming the most solid description of food that 
man can make. It is the traveling provision used through- 
out the Fur Land, where, in addition to its already specified 
qualifications, its great facility of transportation renders it ex- 
tremely valuable. There is no risk of spoiling it, as, if or- 
dinary care be taken to keep the bags free from mould, there 
is no assignable limit to the time pemmican will keep. It is 
estimated that, on an average, the carcasses of two buffaloes 
are required to make one bag of pemmican — one filling the 



164 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

bag itself, the other supplying the wants of the wild savage 
engaged in hunting it down. 

It is only of late years that pemmican has come into pub- 
lic notice as a condensed food valuable to the commissariat 
upon long expeditions. Hitherto it has been a provision 
peculiar to the Fur Land, and particularly to the service of 
the Hudson's Bay Company. Notwithstanding the vast an- 
nual slaughter of buffalo south of the forty-ninth parallel, 
no pemmican is made there; the meat being used in the fresh 
or green state, or in the form of jerked beef. The pemmican 
of the English Arctic expeditions differs from the real article 
in being made of beef mixed with raisins and spices, and pre- 
served from decay by being hermetically sealed. Buffalo pem- 
mican may be said to keep itself, requiring no spices or sea- 
soning for its preservation, and may be kept in any vessel 
and under any conditions, except that of dampness, for un- 
limited time. It is one of the most perfect forms of con- 
densed food known, and is excelled by no other provision 
in its satisfying quality. The amount of it used through- 
out the territory is almost incredible, as, besides the enor- 
mous quantity consumed in the company's service, it 
appears, when attainable, upon the table of every half- 
breed in the country. So essential is it to the wants of 
the voyageitrs, as the staple article of food upon the long 
voyages made in the transportation service of the company, 
that its manufacture is stimulated in every way by the 
agents of that corporation, and every available pound is 
bought up for its use. Until a comparatively late year, it 



THE GREAT'FALL HUNT. 1 65 

was the only article embraced in the trade-lists for which 
liquor was bartered. 

Another form of provision, also the product of the sum- 
mer hunt and extensively used, is dried meat. In its manu- 
facture the flesh of the buffalo undergoes the same treatment 
as in the preparatory stages of pemmican-making — when it 
has been cut into thin slices it is hung over a fire, smoked 
and cured. It resembles sole-leather very much in appear- 
ance. After being thoroughly dried, it is packed into bales 
weighing about sixty pounds each, and shipped all over the 
territory. 

The serious decrease in the number of buffalo, which 
has been observed year by year, threatens to produce a very 
disastrous effect upon the provision trade of the country; and 
the time can not be far distant when some new provision 
must be found to take the place of the old. We recollect 
very well when pemmican, which now can be procured with 
difficulty for one shilling and three pence a pound, could be 
had at two pence, and dried meat formerly costing two pence 
now costs ten pence. This is a fact which threatens to revolu- 
tionize in a manner the whole business of the territory, but 
more particularly the transport service of the company. 

The camp, which has for days been on the verge of star- 
vation, after the return of the hunters from the chase becomes 
a scene of feasting and revelry ; and gastronomic feats are 
performed which seem incredible to those unacquainted with 
the appetite begotten of a roving life, unlimited fresh air, and 
the digestible nature of the food. As with the daughters of 



1 66 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

the horse-leech, there is a continued demand for more, until 
the consumption of tongues, melting hump, and dripping ribs, 
bids fair to threaten the entire camp with immediate asphyxia. 
All night long the feasting continues among the groups formed 
about the camp-fires, and roasting, boiling, and stewing are 
the order of the hour. Were the supply certain to be ex- 
hausted on the morrow, the consumption would go on just 
the same, the improvident hunter entertaining no idea of re- 
serving of present excess for future scarcity. Happily, the 
supply is abundant, for it sometimes happens that the carts 
are fully loaded with meat in a single chase. In that event, 
the major part of them are at once started homeward in 
charge of boys and the younger men, while the hunters fol- 
low up the herd to obtain a further supply of robes. A view 
of the prairie, after a run in which the acquisition of robes is 
the sole object, reveals the enormous waste of life which an- 
nually occurs. The plain for miles is covered with the car- 
casses of buffalo from which nothing has been taken save the 
hides, tongues, and it may be the more savory portions of the 
hump ; the remainder being left to the wolves and carrion- 
birds. Should the first run fail to secure a sufficient supply 
of meat, however, the chase is continued until the comple- 
ment is obtained, each hunter starting his carts homeward as 
they are filled. 

In such manner has the work of the semi-annual hunts 
been conducted for over half a century, and in the same way 
will it continue, growing less in importance yearly, until the 
last buffalo shall have ceased to exist. Their importance in 



THE GREA T FALL HUNT. 1 6/ 

the years gone by can hardly be over-estimated. They have 
furnished the main support of a population numbering ten 
thousand souls, and furnished the trade with a great part of 
its annual supplies of robes and furs. An enterprising and 
flourishing province is springing up about the site of the 
little colony of hunters, rendered all the more easy of estab- 
lishment by the stability and wealth derived from the chase. 
But, unfortunately, the older nomads are crowded by this 
civilization. They belong to a race apart, and are scared by 
fences and enclosures, as if they confined even the free air 
within bounds and limits. Gradually they retire before it, 
following the buffalo closer and closer to the Rocky Moun- 
tains, until finally both will disappear together. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 

'T'^0 the traveler detained long at a trading-post of the 
-*- Hudson's Bay Company, the monotony of the exist- 
ence becomes irksome in the extreme. The scenery about 
the stockade is generally limited to a boundless view of the 
level prairie on three sides, and a meagre one of the river on 
whose banks it stands. The daily routine of life within the 
walls, which contributes to distract the attention of the post 
officials, comes to have an appalling sameness to the mere 
looker-on. It is then that the consumption of tobacco be- 
comes something alarming, and that the mind grasps at the 
most trivial incident as a means of appeasing its weariness. 
The fit of one's moccasins is a matter to be thought seri- 
ously about, and the composition of one's dinner is a subject 
of deep contemplation. 

This hibernal torpor, as it may be called, generally sets 
in more acutely in the autumnal months, when the increas- 
ing cold half locks the rivers in ice, forbidding the use of 
canoe or boat, and drives the sportsman from the plains with 
its frigid breath. It continues with but little cessation 
until midwinter, when trappers and Indians arrive with the 
first of the winter's catch of furs. True, there are occasional 



THE FRA TERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1 69 

times of bustle, created by the arrivals and departures which 
constantly take place in a country where locomotion may be 
said to be the normal condition of the people. But this 
temporary excitement only serves to plunge one into corre- 
sponding depths of depression when it is over, and the same- 
ness of the life afterward becomes absolutely funereal. Every- 
thing readable in the scanty library is read so often that it 
seems to one as if he could close his eyes and repeat the 
whole collection verbatim j the acquaintance of all the live- 
stock is cultivated until one may be said to possess the inti- 
macy of every dog and cat in the post, and the autobiographies 
of all the officers and servants are heard so repeatedly that 
one feels competent to reproduce them in manuscript in the 
event of their decease. 

Fortunately, during this season of inactivity occurs the 
annual celebration of a festival peculiar to a mystic brother- 
hood permeating the nomadic peoples round about. Each 
autumn the fraternity of medicine-men celebrate the dog- 
feast in the vicinity of the principal trading-stations. 

An inclosure about forty feet long by twenty-five broad, 
fenced in with branches of trees, is laid off on the prairie. 
It is situated due east and west, and has an opening in either 
end for purposes of entrance and exit. The ceremony occu- 
pies two or three days, during which the ground in the inte- 
rior of the inclosure is covered with savages, wdio sit along- 
side each other, drawn up close inside the fence. In a line 
running lengthways through the centre are erected perpen- 
dicular poles, with large stones at their bases, both stones 



I/O THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

and poles covered red over different portions of their surfaces 
by the blood of the dog-sacrifice. The animals are selected - 
and killed, and, after lying exposed on the stones beside the 
poles during the performance of certain ceremonies by the 
medicine-men — whose medicine-bags, composed of the skins 
of wild animals, form an important feature of the ceremony — 
are cooked and eaten. The dog-meat, when prepared, pre- 
sents a very uncouth and repulsive appearance, as it is borne 
from man to man in shapeless trenchers that each may select 
the portion he intends to devour. 

To the casual spectator such a ceremony as the dog-feast 
seems a confused conglomeration of frivolous rites and 
genuflections, destitute alike of meaning and design. One 
might be tempted to believe that the principal and most 
rational object of the assemblage was to eat the dogs. In- 
quiry, however, of any well-informed resident of the country, 
elicits the reply that the unfortunate beings are assembled 
for what, in their eyes, is the celebration of a solemn act of 
communion with the spirits. That such communion is real 
has been believed, to our knowledge, by many clergymen and 
priests in the Indian country, though, of course, their theory 
is that it exists with the powers of darkness. It probably 
lies much with the accidental bias of each man's mind, 
whether he inclines to so serious a view of these barbarous 
proceedings, or mentally attributes to them much the same 
amount of spiritual efficacy which he would to the fantastic 
contortions of some Eastern devotee. 

The nominal object of this feast is to make medicine. 



THE FRA TE RNI TY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1 7 1 

What medicine this is, we are unable to state with j^recision. 
The Indians have many medicines, composed for the most 
part of roots, and sometimes possessed of real medicinal vir- 
tue. Sarsaparilla, for instance, is used by them. Some are 
said to be highly poisonous, and even to exercise what we 
presume would to a physician appear an unaccountable effect. 
The permanent contortion of feature, the growth of hair over 
the entire body, the eruption of black, ineffaceble blotches on 
the skin, are alleged to be the consequences of partaking of 
some of them, either by swallowing or inhaling their fumes. 
Frequent examples of the results above cited have come 
under our own personal observation, and we can vouch for 
the effect produced. 

There was employed at one time, as a servant in the fam- 
ily, a Salteaux girl, of about twenty years of age. As a natural 
result of her presence about the establishment, numerous In- 
dians of both sexes, claiming ties of consanguinity of more or 
less remoteness, daily besieged the culinary department of 
our domestic economy. The matter became unbearable, 
finally, as it often occurred that the kitchen-floor was nearly 
covered with the squatting relatives. The girl was ordered 
to refuse admittance to any being, of either sex, habited in a 
blanket. It happened that the first candidate presenting 
himself for admittance after the receipt of this prohibitory 
order was an old conjurer, or medicine-man. The door was 
unceremoniously shut in his face. He lingered about, how- 
ever, until some duty called the girl outside the door, when, 
after threatening her with dire revenge, he took his departure. 



172 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

The poor domestic was much alarmed, and reported his 
threats. Little attention was paid to it, and the winter passed 
away without a further call from the conjurer. 

In the early spring, the girl by some accident cut her 
hand slightly — not sufficiently deep, however, to necessitate 
binding up. Before it healed, she was one day engaged in 
carrying water from an adjacent stream, when the conjurer 
unexpectedly approached her. Professing to have forgotten 
his ejection of the previous winter, he proffered his hand in 
a friendly way to the girl, who thoughtlessly gave him in re- 
turn the wounded member. He shook it a long time, squeez- 
ing it tightly in his own. The sore smarted considerably, 
and upon withdrawing her hand by reason of the pain, she 
noticed some dark substance in the palm of the conjurer's 
hand. The thought then occurred to her that he had poi- 
soned the sore. She was assured of it by the medicine- 
man, who informed her that she would break out in black 
blotches for one month in each year, ever afterward. One 
year from that date black eruptions appeared over her entire 
body, each spot about the size of a dime silver coin. They 
continued upon her person, without any severe pain, for one 
month, when they disappeared. For three successive years 
— as long as we had knowledge of her — the eruptions oc- 
curred regularly, and continued for the allotted time. 

Among the visiting Indians who called perennially at our 
kitchen-door during the winter months, was a middle-aged 
woman suffering from a loss of power to move the facial 
muscles. This incapacity was brought on, according to her 



THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1 73 

own testimony, and that of otliers cognizant of the circum- 
stances, some five years before our first acquaintance with 
her, by certain drugs administered by a conjurer. These 
medicines were given her to produce that effect alone, with- 
out reference to the prevention or cure of other diseases, and 
were taken without her knowledge, being mingled surrepti- 
tiously with her food. The effect soon showed itself in a 
total loss of power in the facial muscles. She became as 
expressionless as a mask. Only the eyes moved ; and, as 
they were intensely black and rather sparkling eyes, the 
ghastly deformity was rendered the more glaring. The most 
singular effect was produced, however, by her laugh. She 
was a jolly, good-natured squaw, and laughed upon the slight- 
est provocation. Her eyes sparkled, and her " Ha ! ha ! " 
was musical to a degree ; but not a muscle moved to denote 
the merriment on that expressionless face. One felt that 
some one else laughed behind that rigid integument, and 
was fain to pull it off, and see the dimples and curves it con- 
cealed. The sensation was that of being in the presence of 
an enigma one could not comprehend. No idea could be 
formed of what she thought at any time ; but when she waxed 
merry her countenance was more than ever a death-mask. 

As to the growth of hair over the body, we have heard of 
but one instance of it. That was an old man from a tribe 
dwelling in the swamps and marshes. He was entirely cov- 
ered with a thick coating of hair nearly an inch in length. 
Only about the eyes was there any diminution in the quantity, 
where for nearly an inch in a circle there was no hair. He 



I 74 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

attributed the phenomenon to a decoction of certain herbs 
given him by a medicine-man whom he had mortally offended. 
His family, so far as we heard of them, were innocent of any 
hirsute covering. 

In a family of three Cree Indians of advanced age, a sis- 
ter and two brothers, named respectively Sallie, Creppe, and 
Hornie, living near Fort Pelly, perhaps the strangest effects 
of the medicine-man's drugs appeared. These old people 
had been poisoned in early youth, with a different effect in 
each case. Sallie, who was a hanger-on about the kitchen, 
lost the nails of her fingers and toes regularly every year at 
the season when birds moult their feathers. This phenome- 
non had never failed to occur annually since the medicine 
had been taken in infancy. There was but little pain con- 
nected with this shedding of the nails, and they soon grew 
out again. Her brother Creppe was afflicted with an erup- 
tion of warts over his entire person, and was altogether as 
hideous a looking object as could well be imagined. The 
divisions of his fingers and toes were hidden by these mon- 
strous excrescences ; from his ears depended warts nearly an 
inch in length ; in fact, he was covered with them all over 
except his eyes. At certain seasons of the year they became 
very painful, and deprived him of the power of locomotion. 

But in the case of Hornie — a name conferred by some 
facetious Scotch trader, in allusion to a fancied resemblance 
to his Satanic majesty — the effects of the poison were of quite 
another character. Hornie's hair was simply changed from a 
generally deep black to alternate streaks of black and white. 



THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1 75 

These streaks were about an inch in width, and ran from the 
forehead to the back of the head. The line of demarcation 
between the two colors was very abrupt and distinct; the 
white color being the purest that can be imagined. There 
was no gradual merging from iron-grey to grey, thence to 
white ; it was the whiteness of unsullied snow throughout the 
streak. And it never changed. 

We do not feel that strangers to the subject of which we 
write will receive these incidents with the confidence which 
they deserve, nor even that those who are somewhat familiar 
with the actual circumstances will admit every inference to 
be drawn to be the living truth ; but our own assurance is 
so clear and strong that we can only judge the critic by his 
judgment of it. We know what we assert, and are upon 
honor with the reader. 

Medical gentlemen in the country have differed in their 
opinions as to the ability of Indians to cause the above-de- 
scribed symptoms ; and, so far as we can gather, the subject 
is a difficult one, and resolves itself more into a question of 
evidence of facts than of the medicinal property of the roots 
and drugs." 

We were once furnished an opportunity of examining at 
our leisure the contents of many medicine-bags at a certain 
Indian mission station in the northern country. These bags had 
formerly been the property of sundry medicine-men, who, on 
their conversion to Christianity, had transferred them to the 
keeping of the reverend missionary. There was a large col- 
lection of them thrown promiscuously upon the floor of a 



I "j^ THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

small out-building. The bags were, for the most part, formed 
of the skins of various wild beasts in embryotic state, taken 
off whole, and so stuffed as to retain as much as possible the 
natural position of the animal. They had evidently served 
as the totems of the owners. The contents of these primi- 
tive medicine-chests were as varied as the most enthusiastic 
curio could desire. Each article was wrapped carefully in a 
separate parcel by itself, with the inner bark of the birch- 
tree, and duly labeled as to its contents with totemic sym- 
bols. An unwrapping of these packages resulted in the dis- 
covery of an extensive assortment of ingredients. There 
were dried herbs of many different varieties — bark and 
leaves of strange plants and trees ; white and orange-colored 
powders of the finest quality, and evidently demanding skill 
in their preparation; claws of animals and talons of birds; 
colored feathers and beaks ; a few preserved skins and teeth 
of reptiles; but a total absence of liquids or any vessels that 
could be used to carry them. There were several plants, 
packages of which were found in every bag; but the majority 
differed greatly, and the materia medica of each practitioner 
seemed to be the result of individual choice and research. 
One thing, however, was common to all — the small package 
of human finger and toe nails. Of what peculiar significa- 
tion they were, or used in what malady, we are unable to 
state. 

Among the other contents of the medicine-bags, and com- 
mon to all, were small images of wood, the presence of which 
was considered essential to the proper efficacy of the drugs. 



THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1/7 

This was the real totem which presided over the effectual use 
of the ingredients, and represented the guardian spirit of the 
owner. The Indians believe every animal to have had a 
great original or father. The first buffalo, the first bear, the 
first beaver, the first eagle, etc., was the Manitou or guardian 
spirit of the whole race of these different creatures. They 
chose some one of these originals as their special Manitou, or 
guardian ; and hence arose the custom of having its represen- 
tation as the totem of an entire tribe. But the medicine- 
men being, as it were, the priests of the spirits, and mediums 
between them and the world, are entitled to a special guar- 
dian spirit of their own, and hence carry his totem among 
their drugs. As they profess to heal through the direction of 
this spirit or guardian, they very properly place his image 
among the means he commands to be used. 

These images were, as a matter of course, of limited size 
and rough workmanship. Their designs were various, and 
represented different animals, birds, reptiles, the human figure 
in strange attitudes, the sun and moon, and combinations of 
all these in many forms. Whatever they held to be superior 
to themselves, they deified ; but they never exalted it much 
above humanity, and these images never betrayed the ex- 
pression of a conception of a supernatural being on the part 
of their owners. 

But, whatever may have been the value of the contents of 
these medicine-bags, certain it is that a fraternity of medicine- 
men exists among the Indians, and that those without its 

pale look with great awe upon the power of its members. 
8* 



178 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

The latter are the great actors in the dog-feasts. They make 
medicine for the recovery of the sick, who apply for their as- 
sistance, and initiate novices into the mysteries of the frater- 
nity. In payment for each exercise of these offices, a remu- 
neration of some value is required ; the charges being, like 
those of many of the medical profession, in proportion to the 
wealth of the patient. In many cases it happens that, 
through a pretty thorough knowledge of the virtues of certain 
herbs, a firm determination on the part of the sufferer not to 
die, and a constitution inured to noxious lotions of every 
kind, the medicine-man effects a cure. Some of his cures 
and specifics are wonderful, too. 

We recall to memory a certain buffalo-hunt in which we 
once participated, accompanying a French-Indian family. 
Among the members of this nomadic domestic circle was a 
young woman about nineteen years of age, and of very strong 
physique. It happened one day that, in drawing a loaded 
shot-gun from the cart by the muzzle, the charge exploded, and 
passed entirely through her body in the region of the chest. 
The gun being not over twenty inches distant from her per- 
son when discharged, the shot left a hole through which 
one's finger could be thrust. We were tented on the plain, 
hundreds of miles from settlements, and totally destitute 
alike of medical knowledge and remedies. The girl was given 
up for lost, of course. Near our own camp, however, were a 
few lodges of Indians, and among them, as usual, a medicine- 
man. The report of the accident soon reaching the Indian 
tepees., this conjurer stalked over to our tents, and looked 



THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1/9 

without comment for a time upon the unskilled efforts being 
made for the sufferer's relief. At length he addressed 
the father of the girl, offering to cure her if she was intrusted 
to his care. Clutching at this straw, in the absence of any 
better thing, with the girl's consent the father accepted the 
proposal ; and the patient was transferred to the lodge of the 
medicine-man. Strange as it may appear, the woman re- 
covered after a time, under the drugs and care of the con- 
jurer, and was able to return home with us at the termination 
of the hunt. We saw her some years after, and she expressed 
herself as enjoying perfect health. The payment for effecting 
this cure was, if we recollect aright, two Indian ponies, 
which, it is needless to say, were cheerfully paid. 

On his initiation into the mysteries of the brotherhood, 
the candidate, besides paying the medicine-men a fair price, 
must be a man known to the adepts as eligible. This eligi- 
bility consists, it has been contended, in physical perfection 
alone; but, having known conjurers who were deformed from 
birth, and others maimed at the time of their initiation, we 
incline to the opinion that mental characteristics are those 
most closely examined. A certain dignity of appearance, a 
severe and mysterious manner, and a more than usual taci- 
turnity and secretiveness in the candidate, are favorably con- 
sidered. Different tribes, however, or, it may be, different 
schools of medicine, have their distinct methods of initia- 
tion. 

The most curious initial ceremony coming to our kno.wl- 
edge was that of a tribe in the far North. The candidate 



I So THE GREAT FUR LAAW. 

was required to repair to the forests for a certain number of 
days, to be passed in fasting, until, from extreme physical 
privation, he should be wrought up to close communion with 
the spirits. He then returned, and entered the pale of the 
fence marking the limits of the dog-feast, to be at once sur- 
rounded by a circle of conjurers and braves of his tribe, who 
indulged in a wild dance. In the midst of this dance a live 
dog (white in color, if to be had) was brought within the cir- 
cle by the instructing medicine-man, and handed to the no- 
vitiate. Seizing the sacrificial canine by the neck and a hind- 
leg, the candidate finished his initiation by devouring the 
animal alive. The spectacle of this poor wretch, his face 
covered with blood, the howls and contortions of the suffer- 
ing animal, and the yelling, dancing demons, circling about 
in their monotonous dance, was appalling to the last degree. 
The dogs consumed were generally of small size, but in some 
instances large ones were given, and the neophyte was in a 
gorged and semi-dormant condition at the termination of his 
repast. 

With some ie^\- orders of medicine-men physical torture 
in the initiation obtains. The candidate, to cure others, 
must be a perfect physical man himself; and, as he may oc- 
casion pain to his patients, must be able to endure it without 
murmur in his own person. At an appointed time he appears 
before a medicine-man, who cuts four gashes about three 
inches long on the shoulders near the point. With a smooth 
stick of hard wood he makes a hole underneath the slits he 
has cut, taking in an inch or more in width, and through 



THE FRA TERNIT V OF MEDICINE-AIEN. 1 8 1 

which a buffalo-thong is passed and tightly tied. Then the 
breast is served in the same manner. After this one thong 
is fastened to a long pole, the other to a buffalo-skull, or 
other heavy weight, with about ten feet of rope between the 
back and skull. The candidate then jumps into a lively 
dance, singing a song in keeping with the performance, and 
jerking the skull about so fast that at times it is four or five 
feet from the ground, all the time pulling as best he can at 
the thong fastened to the pole by jumping back and swing- 
ing upon it. At times the flesh on back and breast seems to 
stretch eight or ten inches, and, when let up, closes down 
again with a pop. This dancing and racing continues until 
the flesh-fastenings break. The novitiate is by that time a 
terrible looking object, and so nearly exhausted that he has 
to be helped away. His wounds are washed and bound up, 
presents are made to him, and he is thenceforth recognized 
as a medicine- man. 

A fast of ten days' duration has been stated to us, on 
oral and trustworthy testimony, as a necessary preliminary 
among some tribes to becoming a conjurer. During the time 
indicated the candidate sleeps among the branches of a tree, 
where a temporary residence has been fitted up for him. 
His dreams are carefully treasured up in his recollection, 
and he believes that the spirits who are afterward to become 
his familiars then reveal . themselves to him. Indeed, this 
intent watching for his spiritual familiars is the principal 
object of his retirement and fast. He is taught to believe in 
two kinds of spirits, one eminently good, the other emi- 



1 82 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

nently evil. But the latter are inferior in power to the 
former. The good spirits are his guardians and familiars, yet 
he may use the devices of the evil ones if he so desire 
Every accident of life with a medicine-man is accounted for 
by spiritual agency. An amusing incident may serve to 
show the extent to which this belief may be carried : 

A small company of Indians drifted into our premises, 
one winter's day for the purpose of begging provisions. 
Among the number were several noted conjurers. Some 
freak of curiosity tempted us to try how far their belief in 
the supernatural would carry them; and, having a large 
music-box in our possession, it was wound up and placed 
unnoticed upon the table. In a moment it began playing, 
and the notes of "Bonnie Doon," "The Lass o' Gowrie," 
etc., reverberated through the apartment. At its first chords 
the faces of the savages assumed a wondering, dazed expres- 
sion. But, quickly recovering from that phase of amaze- 
ment, they began to trace the sound to its origin. After 
some minutes of deep attention, one old man evidently dis- 
covered the source, and without a moment's hesitation raised 
his gun and fired it at the box. It is perhaps unnecessary 
to mention that the instrument was, to use a nautical expres- 
sion, " a total wreck." The conjurer asserted that the 
music was produced by an evil spirit concealed in the box, 
and could only be driven out by a gunshot. Our curiosity 
was satisfied, but at a considerable expense. 

For whole nights previous to the public and final cere- 
mony of the dog-feast, the principal medicine-man, installed 



THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1 83 

in his medicine-tent, instructs his pupils. The quaint party- 
is accompanied by an individual who beats the medicine- 
drum, the monotonous tones of which are kept up during the 
whole time the lesson continues. What special branch of 
medical science is instilled into the minds of pupils we do 
not know. It is probably but a lesson in incantation or 
some senseless jugglery, intended to awe the candidate; for 
the medicine-men are acute deceivers, and as despotic and 
absurd in social life as are the priests and oracles and con- 
jurers of civilized man in another hemisphere. 

It has been our good fortune to see some of the tricks 
performed by the medicine-men, among the most curious of 
which is one analogous to the celebrated Davenport trick. 
The conjurer in every instance permitted an inspection of 
tent and person ; he was then securely tied inside the tent 
and left alone for a moment, when he would appear untied 
at the door; a moment later he would be tied again. This 
trick is, in certain localities, quite common among them, and 
exceedingly well performed. They exhibit also many other 
feats of jugglery, in themselves very curious and interesting, 
but not calling for notice here. 

An interesting circumstance obtains, however, in their 
weather divinations. During stormy weather, the medicine- 
man may be heard in his tent engaged in loud incantations. 
After half a day spent in this manner, he appears, and pre- 
dicts at what time the storm will begin to abate, the direc- 
tion the wind will take, and the time that will elapse before 
its entire cessation. In short, he gives a complete meteoro- 



1 84 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

logical and storm table ; and, in the many instances in 
which these predictions were made in our presence, they in- 
variably proved correct. 

However, neither from undoubted medicine-men who 
have been converted to the Christian faith, nor from any 
others of whom we have heard, has any thing worth knowing 
in relation to what may be termed the mysteries of the cere- 
monies above indicated been ever elicited. Christian ex- 
conjurers have, we believe, been known to express an opin- 
ion that they possessed a power when pagans which they 
were unable to exercise after baptism. What this belief may 
be worth we do not know. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE BLACKFEET A PLAIN-INDIAN " TRADE." 

\T /"HOEVER has studied the geographical position of 
• ' the posts of the Hudson's Bay Company cannot fail 
to have noticed the vast extent of country intervening between 
the forty-ninth parallel of latitude and the North Saskatche- 
wan River, in which there exists no fort nor trading-station 
of the company. This is the country of the Blackfeet, that 
wild, restless, erring race, whose hand is against every man, 
and every man's hand against them.' With the Rocky Moun- 
tains and the forty-ninth parallel as a portion of the circum- 
ference, a line drawn from the latter through the elbow of the 
South Saskatchewan River and the Bad Hill, thence trending 
northwest along the course of the Red-Deer River, nearly to 
the Rocky Mountain House, would inclose the British Amer- 
ican territory of the Blackfeet nation. In the United States 
it extends along the course of the Missouri River to a point 
below the Sun River, thence diverging north of east to the 
elbow of the South Saskatchewan. A line drawn from the 
latter point to the Rocky Mountain House would measure six 
hundred rniles in length, and yet lie wholly in the country of 
the Blackfeet. Along its northern border lies a fair and fer- 
tile land ; but close by, scarcely half a day's journey to the 



1 86 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

south, the arid, treeless, sandy plains begin to supplant the 
rich, verdure-clad hills and dales, and that immense central 
desert spreads out those ocean-like expanses which find their 
southern limit down by the waters of the Canadian River, full 
twelve hundred miles due south of the Saskatchewan. 

Within the territory of the Blackfeet nation scarce a trace 
of settlement exists, and but few trading-posts stand to wel- 
come the booty-laden warrior to their rude counters.* Along 
its entire border there prevails, during the months of summer 
and autumn, a state of perpetual warfare : on the north and 
east with the Plain Crees ; on the south and west with the 
Kootanais and Flatheads ; on the southeast and northwest 
with the Assiniboines of the plain and mountains ; on the south 
there are ceaseless predatory excursions against the Ameri- 
cans on the Missouri. Ever since the tribes first became 
known to the white traders, there has existed this state of 
hostility among them. The red-man has always three great 
causes of war — to steal a horse, to take a scalp, or to get a 
wife. On the north, the Crees and Assiniboines continually 
force on hostilities, for the sake of stealing the Blackfeet 
horses, which are far better than their own ; while, on the 
south, the Blackfeet make war upon the Crows and Flatheads 
for a similar reason. At war with every nation that touches 
the wide circle of their boundaries, these wild, dusky men 
sweep like a whirlwind over the arid deserts of the central 

* Considerable change has taken place in the character of the Black- 
feet country within the past six years, owing to the rapid settlement of 
the Northwest Territories, and the establishment of Mounted Police Sta- 
tions at different points. 



THE BLACKFEET. I 87 

plateau. They speak a language distinct from that of all 
other native tribes ; their feasts and ceremonies, too, are 
different from those of other nations. Not absolutely sta- 
tionary residents of a domain, and wandering much by 
families and tribes, yet they are not nomads ; a confed- 
eracy, there is not the semblance of a national government 
anywhere. In fact, they form the most curious anomaly 
of that race of men who are passing away beneath our eyes 
into the infinite solitude. The legend of their origin runs 
thus : 

" Long years ago, when their great forefather crossed the 
Mountains of the Setting Sun, and settled along the sources 
of the Missouri and South Saskatchewan, it came to pass that 
a chief had three sons : Kenna, or The Blood ; Peaginou, or 
The Wealth ; and a third who was nameless. The first two 
were great hunters ; they brought to their father's lodge rich 
store of moose and elk meat, and the buffalo fell beneath 
their unerring arrows ; but the third, or nameless one, ever 
returned empty-handed from the chase, until his brothers 
mocked him for want of skill. One day the old chief said to 
this unsuccessful hunter : ' My son, you cannot kill the 
moose, your arrows shun the buffalo, the elk is too fleet for 
your footsteps, and your brothers mock you because you bring 
no meat into the lodge ; but see ! I will make you a mighty 
hunter.' And the old chief took from his lodge-fire a piece 
of burnt stick, and, Avetting it, rubbed the feet of his son with 
the blackened charcoal, and named him Sat-sia-qua, or The 
Blackfeet ; and evermore Sat-sia-qua was a mighty hunter, and 



1 88 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

his arrows flew straight to the buffalo, and his feet moved 
swift in the chase." * 

According to tradition, from these three sons descended 
the three tribes of Blood, Peaginou, and Blackfeet ; but for 
many generations there have been two other tribes or parts of 
tribes recognized in the confederacy. These are the Gros- 
Ventres, or Atsinas, on the extreme southeast, a branch of the 
Arrapahoe nation who dwelt along the sources of the Platte ; 
and the Sircies, on the north, a branch or offshoot of the 
Chippewyans of Lake Athabasca. The latter are a small but 
very mischievous band, which, last of all the tribes, joined the 
confederacy. How the former tribe became detached from 
the parent-stock has never been determined ; but of the 
latter tradition tells how a tribe of Beavers, fighting over the 
wanton killing of a dog, concluded a peace only on condition 
of separation ; and the friends of the chief whose arrow had 
killed the dog marched out into the night to seek their for- 
tunes in the vast wilderness lying to the south. A hundred ^ 
years later, a Beaver Indian, following the fortunes of a white 
trader, found himself in one of the forts of the Saskatchewan. 
Strange Indians were camped about the palisades, and among 
them were a few braves who, when they conversed together, 
spoke a language different from the other Blackfeet ; in this 
the Beaver Indian recognized his own tongue. And to this 
day the Sircies speak the language of their original tribe — a 
guttural tongue which may be heard far down in Mexico and 
Nicaragua, among the wild Navajo and Apache horsemen of 
* Major Butler, " Great Lone Land." 



THE BLACKFEET. 1 89 

the Mexican plains — in addition to that of the adopted one. 
The Blackfeet tongue is rich, musical, and stately ; that of 
the Sircies harsh, guttural, and difficult ; and while the Sir- 
cies always speak the former in addition to their own tongue, 
the Blackfeet rarely acquire the language of the Sircies. Al- 
though the remaining tribes of the great Blackfeet nation live 
in close alliance and speak the same language, yet it is com- 
paratively easy to distinguish them by differences of dialect 
and pronunciation, such as prevail in the various districts of 
our own country. 

Of the territory occupied by the Blackfeet nation, the 
Sircies, numbering scarcely two hundred souls, inhabit the 
northern border ; joining them on the south come the Black- 
feet proper, numbering, according to the late annual counts 
of the Hudson's Bay officers at their posts, about four thou- 
sand. From their southern limit to the South Saskatchewan 
range the Bloods, numbering two thousand ; and thence to 
the Missouri wander the Peagins, numbering three thousand. 
In March, 1870, the small-pox, carrying off large numbers of 
the latter tribe, swept northward through the remaining tribes,, 
and reduced the nation by a fourth. Previous to the ravages 
of this terrible epidemic, the Blackfeet confederacy was 
believed to comprise from twelve to fourteen thousand people, 
all included. 

But the Blackfeet, taken as a body, are still the most 
numerous and powerful of the nations that live wholly or 
partly in British North America. In person they have de- 
veloped an unusual degree of beauty and symmetry. Though 



IQO THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

of less stature than many other Indians, they are still tall and 
well made. Their faces are very intelligent, the nose aqui- 
line, the eyes clear and brilliant, the cheek-bones less promi- 
nent, and the lips thinner than usual among other tribes. 
The dress of the men differs little from the ordinary costume 
of the Indian of the plains, except in being generally cleaner 
and in better preservation. The Bloods dress more neatly 
and are finer and bolder-looking men than the Blackfeet, 
who, in turn, surpass the Peagins in these respects. The 
Bloods are said to have among them many comparatively fair 
men, with grey eyes, and hair both finer and lighter-colored 
than usual in the case of pure Indians. This tribe is sup- 
posed to bear its savage name, not from any particular cruelty 
of disposition, but because, unlike the other tribes, its warriors 
do not steal horses, but only seek for the blood of their ene- 
mies, whom they generally overcome, for they are among the 
bravest of all the natives. The faces of both Blackfeet men 
and women are generally highly painted with vermilion, which 
seems to be the national color. The dress of the latter is very 
singular and striking, consisting of long gowns of buffalo- 
skins, dressed beautifully soft, and dyed with yellow ochre. 
This is confined at the waist by abroad belt of the same mate- 
rial, thickly studded over with round brass plates, the size of a 
silver half-dollar piece, brightly polished. The Blackfeet, how- 
ever, in common with other Indians, are rapidly adopting blan- 
kets and capotes, and giving up the beautifully-painted robes 
of their forefathers. The ornamented robes that are now made 
are inferior in workmanship to those of the days gone by. 



THE BLACKFEET, T9I 

The mental characteristics of the Blackfeet resemble 
closely those of Indians everywhere. Similar circumstances 
give shape and force to thoughts and emotions in all. Intel- 
lectual vigor is manifested in shrewdness of observation, and 
strong powers of perception, imagination, and eloquence. 
They are quick of apprehension, cunning, noble-minded, and 
firm of character, yet cautious in manner, and with a certain 
expression of pride and reserve. They are strong and active, 
and naturally averse to an indolent habit. Their activity, 
however, is rather manifested in war and the chase than in 
useful labor. Pastoral, agricultural, and mechanical labor they 
despise, as forming a sort of degrading slavery. In this they 
are as proud as the citizens of the old republics whose busi- 
ness was war. Their labors are laid upon the women, who 
also are, upon occasion, the beasts of burden upon their 
marches ; for the egotism of the red-man, like that of his 
Avhite brother, makes him regard woman as his inferior, and a 
predestined servant to minister to his comfort and pleasure. 
The Blackfeet have, moreover, both a local attachment and a 
strong patriotic or national feeling,' in which respect they 
differ favorably from all other tribes. In their public coun- 
cils and debates they exhibit a genuine oratorical power, and 
a keenness and closeness of reasoning quite remarkable. 
Eloquence in public speaking is a gift which they earnestly 
cultivate, and the chiefs prepare themselves by previous re- 
flection and arrangement of topics and methods of expression. 
Their scope of thought is as boundless as the land over 
which they roam, and their speech the echo of the beauty that 



19- THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

lies spread around them. Their expressions are as free and 
lofty as those of any civilized man, and they speak the voices 
of the things of earth and air amid which their wild life is 
cast. Their language being too limited to afford a wealth of 
diction, they make up in ideas, in the shape of metaphor 
furnished by all Nature around them, and read from the great 
book which day, night, and the desert, unfold to them. 

As before stated, although the Blackfeet nation is really a 
confederacy of five tribes, yet there is no semblance of a 
national government anywhere. All political power is vested 
in the head- chief of each tribe, and is nearly absolute while 
he exercises it. He is the executor of the people's will, as 
determined in the councils of the elders. Some of them are 
men of considerable natural abilities ; all must be brave and 
celebrated in battle. Sometimes they are hereditary leaders, 
but more frequently owe their elevation to prowess in war, 
or merits as orators and statesmen. Public opinion elevates 
them, and that, together with an uncompromising assertion of 
their rights, alone sustains them. To disobey the mandate of 
a chief is, at times, to court instant death at his hands. But, 
when a chief is once established in power, the tribe generally 
confide in his wisdom, and there is seldom any transgression 
of the laws promulgated by him. He has absolute control of 
all military expeditions ; and, whithersoever the chief or 
leader of the soldiers is sent by him, the warriors follow. At 
the present time, the two most prominent chiefs of the Black- 
feet nation are Sapoo-max-sika, or " The Great Crow's Claw," 
chief of the Blackfeet proper, and Oma-ke-pee-mulkee-yeu, or 



THE BLACKFEET. 



193 



"The Great Swan," chief of the Bloods. These men are 
widely diverse in character, the former being a man whose 
word, once given, may be reHed upon for fulfiUment ; while 
the latter is represented as a man of colossal proportions and 
savage disposition, crafty, treacherous, and cruel. 

As a race, the Blackfeet are livelier than other Indian 
tribes. The latter are gen- 
erally quarrelsome when in 
liquor, while the former show 
their jollity by dancing, sing- 
ing, and hugging one anoth- 
er with all sorts of antics. 
Though so fond of rum, the 
Blackfeet are not habitual 
drunkards. They get com- 
pletely drunk once or twice 
a year, but at other times 
take nothing stronger than 
coffee, which the United 
States Government deals out 




A ULACKFEET GRAVE. 



to them as part of an annual subsidy. They consider — and 

not without some reason — that these periodical excesses are 

good for them, curing the biliousness caused by their mode 

of life. 

Their funeral and burial ceremonies indicate their belief 

in the immortality of the soul. These forms are of a similar 

type among all the tribes composing the nation. They place 

their dead, dressed in gaudiest apparel, within a tent, in a sit- 
9 



194 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

ting posture, or occasionally fold them in skins and lay them 
on high scaffolds out of the reach of wild beasts, under which 
the relatives weep and wail. Their arms and horses are 
buried with them, to be used in the long journey to the spirit- 
land, showing the possession of the idea of the dual nature of 
matter and spirit. 

A somewhat singular custom obtains upon the death of a 
child. Immediately upon its decease, the whole village rush 
into the lodge and take possession of whatever portable prop- 
erty they can seize upon, until the grief-stricken parents are 
stripped of all their worldly possessions, not even excepting 
their clothing. The only method of evading the custom is to 
secrete the most valuable property beforehand, generally a 
matter difficult of accomplishment. 

Although the Blackfeet nation is divided into detached 
tribes, yet the essential characteristics of the race may be 
found in all. Proud, courageous, independent, and dignified 
in bearing, they form the strongest possible contrast with the 
majority of the Northern tribes ; and they have many natural 
virtues which might carry them far toward civilization, but 
for the wars into which they have been plunged by the rapa- 
city of the whites. These wars have not only greatly dimin- 
ished their numbers, but keep alive a feeling of implacable 
hatred of the whole white race, which no extraneous influence 
"has as yet served to mitigate. " At this moment," wrote an 
American officer scarcely fifteen years since, " it is certain a 
man can go about through the Blackfeet country without mo- 
lestation, except in the contingency of being mistaken at night 



THE BLACKFEET. 1 95 

for an Indian." But fifteen years of injustice and wrong have 
changed the friend into an aggressive enemy. Injustice and 
wrong toward the Indian have almost ahvays formed the rule 
with the Government and individuals, and the opposite the 
exception. Smarting under a sense of these wrongs, the 
Blackfeet have been made implacable enemies of their op- 
pressors. Those who have paraded a " knowledge of Indian 
character" have, in scores of instances, purposely fanned the 
flames of indignation and desire for revenge, and incited the 
Indians to make war that their own craft might prosper in 
government employ. Knowledge of Indian character has too 
long been synonymous with knowledge of how to cheat the 
Indian ; a species of cleverness which, even in the science of 
chicanery, does not require the exercise of the highest abil- 
ities. The red-man has already had too many dealings with 
persons of this class, and has now a very shrewd idea that 
those who possess this knowledge of his character have also 
managed to possess themselves of his property. 

At war on every hand, anything jike regular trade with 
the Blackfeet nation is carried on with much difficulty. 
Years ago a desultory exchange of peltries and merchandise 
was conducted through the Peagin tribe at Fort Benton and 
other posts on the Missouri ; but constant imposition on the 
part of the white traders, and retaliation by the red-men, have 
now nearly estopped all commercial relations between the two 
parties. In recent years, a small post established by two 
Americans on the Belly River, sixty miles within British ter- 
ritory, on the Fort Benton and Edmonton House trail, for 



196 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

the purpose of trading improved arms, ammunition, and 
spirits, to the Blackfeet, has attracted the greater share of 
their trade ; the Blackfeet realizing the necessity of meeting 
their enemies with the improved implements of modern war- 
fare. This establishment, controlled by a band of outlaws, 
obtaining its goods by smuggling across the boundary-line, 
and the open and flagrant violation of all law, human and 
divine, and only safe from plunder by the savages by reason 
of superior armament and the known reckless character of its 
servants, was fortunately broken up by the Dominion consta- 
bulary a short time since. It is a matter of regret, however, 
that the Blackfeet should have been thoroughly supplied with 
repeating-rifles previous to its demolition. The closing of this 
post leaves the Blackfeet nation but one other trading-post* in 
the immediate vicinity of their own territory, and diverts the 
trade from an American to a British channel. 

The Rocky-Mountain House of the Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany stands upon the high northern bank of the North Sas- 
katchewan River, in the thick pine-forest which stretches 
away to the base of the foot-hills. The stream here runs in a 
deep, wooded valley, on the western extremity of which rise 
the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains. The house 
itself is a heavy log structure, and presents many features to 
be found in no other post of the region. Built with especial 
reference to the Plain-Indian trade, every device known to 

* The writer refers to the old established trading-posts of the Fur Trade. 
Since the formation of the Northwest Territories by the Dominion Govern- 
ment, military and trading-posts have been scattered throughout the 
Blackfeet country. 



THE BLACKFEET. 197 

the trader has been put in force to secure the servants against 
the possibility of a surprise during a barter ; for the wily Black- 
feet seize every opportunity to overpower the garrison and 
help themselves, to the complete collapse of profit on the 
trade to the Hudson's Bay Company. Bars, bolts, locks, 
sliding-doors, and places to fire down upon the Indians, 
abound in every direction, and the apartments in which the 
Indians assemble to trade are cut off from all communication 
with the remaining rooms of the fort. In effect, the cus- 
tomers of this isolated mercantile establishment are handled 
very much after the manner of a hot coal, and surrounded, 
metaphorically speaking, with sheet-iron guards lest damage 
might result to the holder. 

When the Blackfeet have accumulated a sufficient number 
of peltries to warrant a visit to the Rocky-Mountain House, 
two or three envoys, or forerunners, are chosen, and are sent 
in advance of the main body, by a week or more, to announce 
their approach and notify the officers in charge of the quan- 
tity of provisions, peltries, robes, horses, etc., which they 
will have to dispose of ; and also to ascertain the where- 
abouts of their hereditary enemies, the Crees and Mountain 
Assiniboines. The envoys prepare for state visits of this 
nature by an assumption of their gaudiest apparel, and a more 
than usual intensity of paint : scarlet leggins and blankets ; 
abundance of ribbons in the cap, if any be worn, or the head- 
band trimmed with beads and porcupine-quills, while the bulk 
of the cap is made of the plumage of birds ; again, a single 
feather from the wing of an eagle or white-bird, fastened in 



1 98 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the scalp-lock, or the hair plaited in a long cue behind, and 
two shorter ones hanging down on each side in front, each 
bound round with coils of bright brass wire ; round the eyes 
a halo of bright vermilion, a streak down the nose, a patch on 
each cheek, and a circle round the mouth of the same color, 
constitute the effective head-gear of the advance-agents. The 
remainder of the costume is modified by climate and seasons. 
In the summer they are almost naked, seldom wearing more 
than the azain, or loin-cloth. In the colder months they wear 
clothing made of the skins of wild animals, dressed, or with 
fur on ; soft moccasins of deerskin, brightly ornamented with 
pigments, beads, and stained quills of the porcupine ; leather 
stockings or leggins of dressed deer-skin, ornamented generally 
by fringes of the same material, covering the moccasins and 
reaching nearly to the body, and suspended by a thong round 
the abdomen. With the females the leggins extend from the 
feet to the knees, below which they are fastened by a beaded 
and quilled garter. A shirt, made of soft buffalo-skin, and a 
necklace of bear's-claws and teeth, together with a fire-bag 
and tobacco-pipe — the inseparable companions of every In- 
dian — complete the costume. The forerunner is anxious to 
make every article of his elaborate toilet tell with effect, as 
his mission is regarded as an important one, in which a failure 
to produce a favorable impression on the mind of the trader 
would be fraught with disastrous consequences to the prospec- 
tive trade. 

Upon arriving at the post, the envoys are received 
and handsomely entertained by the officer in charge, who 



THE BLACKFEET. 199 

makes them presents according to their rank, and in propor- 
tion to the anticipated value of the trade. They are feasted, 
smoked, and, upon occasion, wined to a considerable extent. 
In turn, they report the number of peltries, horses, etc., to be 
traded by the band, and name the articles likely to be most in 
demand by their brethren. Such goods are at once placed 
where they may be easily accessible, and the quantity, if in- 
adequate, is augmented by supplies procured at the nearest 
post, should there be sufficient time for that purpose. The 
forerunners are shown the stock of merchandise on hand, and 
the quality of the goods ; the values of different articles are 
explained to them, and the fullest understanding upon all 
matters relative to the trade is arrived at. This completed, 
and a few days of lounging indulged in, the advance-agents 
depart to their tribe, and the little garrison of the Mountain 
House prepare for the coming struggle. 

Within the fort a searching examination is made of the 
efficient working of all bolts, locks, gratings, etc., and of the 
closing of all means of communication between the Indian- 
room — a large apartment in which the Blackfeet assemble 
previous to being admitted into the trading-store — and the 
rest of the buildings ; guns are newly cleaned, reloaded, and 
placed, together with abundant ammunition, by the numerous 
loop-holes in the lofts above the trading and Indian-rooms. 
From the shelves of the former are taken most of the blankets, 
colored cloths, guns, ammunition, ribbons, bright handker- 
chiefs, beads, etc., the staple commodities of the Indian trade, 
with a view of decreasing the excitement under which the 



200 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

red-man always labors when brought into immediate juxtaposi- 
tion with so much bravery — an excitement which renders him 
oblivious to furnishing an equivalent in exchange, and tends 
to foster his habits of forcible seizure. Preparations are also 
made within the stockade for the reception of the ponies to 
be purchased, and their safe-keeping afterward, for the Black- 
feet's fine sense of humor frequently leads him to ride away 
an animal he has just sold, by way of practical joke upon the 
owner. 

All things being made secure, there remains for the use of 
the Blackfeet the narrow passage-way leading from the outer 
gate of the stout log stockade to the Indian-room — a passage 
tightly walled up with smooth logs, in which no interstices or 
footholds occur, in order to prevent all entrance into the 
yard of the inclosure, — the Indian-room itself, and the small 
hall-way leading from it to the trading-store. This latter is 
closed by two heavy doors, the space between being barely 
sufficient to accommodate two persons standing with their 
peltries. In trading but two Indians are admitted into the 
trading-store at one time, after the following fashion : The 
passage-door leading into the Indian-room is opened, and two 
braves admitted therein ; then it is closed, and the other door 
leading into the trading-store opened. When the two war- 
riors have finished trading, their return to the Indian-room is 
effected by a similar process, one door always being kept 
shut. Both these doors are made to slide into their places, 
and are manipulated from an apartment occupied by the 
traders ; so that the supply of customers is regulated as 



THE BLACKFEET. 



201 



desired. The trading-store is divided by means of a stout par- 
tition extending from floor to ceiling into two parts, one for 
the goods and traders, the other for the Indians. In the 
centre of this partition an aperture of little more than a yard 




THE TRADING STORE. 



square is cut, divided by a grating into squares sufficiently 
large to admit the passage of an arm, a blanket, or a robe, but 
inadequate to the admission of the red-man in person. This 
partition is necessitated by the fact of the Blackfeet's forget- 
9* 



202 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

fulness of the existence of counters, and the exasperating 
pertinacity with which he insists upon close and personal ex- 
amination of the goods. It sometimes happens, too, that he 
expresses his dissatisfaction at the price of a much-coveted 
article by desultory firing at the person of the trader, who, in 
the absence of such partition, has no means of escape or con- 
cealment. It is on account of a somewhat frequent repetition 
of this occurrence that the two loop-holes in the ceiling im- 
mediately above the grating are perhaps the most closely 
guarded of any during the progress of a trade. From time to 
time, as the shelves are depleted of their gaudy lading, ad- 
vantage is taken of the absence of all Indians from the room 
to have new supplies brought in ; care being taken to preserve 
an equilibrium, the loss of which would lead to a correspond- 
ing depression or excitement on the part of the braves. The 
furs and provisions traded are at once transferred to another 
apartment out of sight. 

On the day appointed for the trade a moving cloud ap- 
proaching over the prairie soon takes on a certain degree of 
individuality, and the picturesque throng come in mounted 
upon their gayly-caparisoned ponies, dashing over the ground 
at full speed, sometimes singly, most often in knots of two or 
three, or even larger groups. When the Blackfeet pay a visit 
to the Mountain House they generally come in large numbers, 
prepared to fight with either Crees or Assiniboines. The 
braves generally ride free, while the squaws and children 
bring up the rear with the ponies and dogs drawing the loaded 
travailles. A travaille is an Indian contrivance consistinsj of 



THE BLACKFERT, 203 

two poles fastened together at an acute angle, with crossbars 
between. The point of the angle rests upon the back of the 
dog or horse, the diverging ends of the poles drag along the 
ground, and the baggage is tied on to the crossbars. The In- 
dians use these contrivances instead of carts. It frequently 
occurs that, in addition to the packs of dogs and horses, the 
women are also heavily laden. 

The Blackfeet, leaving successfully forded the river with 
their peltries, by piling them upon the backs of ponies which 
they force to swim the stream, form a camp at some distance 
from the fort, pitching their tepees and spreading the wet robes 
out to dry, A tepee, or lodge, is generally composed of from 
ten to twelve buffalo-hides, from which the hair has been re- 
moved, and the skin nicely tanned and smoked. The usual 
number of Indians to a tepee is seven, of which at least two are 
warriors or able-bodied fighting-men. The camp being com- 
pleted, the ponies for barter are selected, and the furs and 
provisions made ready for transportation to the fort, and 
easily accessible during the trade. The ponies of the Black- 
feet are generally of a superior breed to those found among 
other Northern tribes, and command higher prices. The 
braves are very fond of their horses, and very careful of them, 
differing in this respect from the Crees and Assiniboines, who 
are rough and unmerciful masters. They have a custom of 
marking their horses with certain hieroglyphics, painting them 
over with curious devices, and scenting them with aromatic 
l>erbs. 

Everything being made ready in the Blackfeet camp — 



204 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

peltries collected in small bundles, provisions packed, robes 
and dressed skins dried and easily accessible, the best gar- 
ments and most vivid paint donned by the braves — whatever 
is to be traded is now laid upon the backs of ponies and 
squaws, and the entire camp approach the fort in long caval- 
cade. Within a short distance of the stockade the procession 
halts, and the officer in charge goes out to meet them. A 
small circle is formed by the chiefs and head-men, the trader 
enters it, and the palaver begins. Many speeches are made ; 
each brave, first embalming himself in a few words of feeling 
eulogy, assures the officer of his inordinate affection for the 
white race in general and his person in particular, and avows 
his intention of conducting the ensuing trade in a strictly 
honorable and orderly manner — the whole affair terminating 
by the principal chief illustrating his love for his white brother 
and his own "big heart" by loading a pony with an hetero- 
geneous collection of robes, leather, and provisions, and hand- 
ing horse and all he carries over to the officer. This is the 
Indian manner of beginning a trade ; and, after such a present, 
no sane man can possibly entertain a doubt upon the big- 
heartedness of the donor. The custom has, however, one 
drawback — the trader is expected to return a present of twice 
the value. Unlike the Spaniard, when the red-man extends 
one the key of his house, he expects the offer to be taken lit- 
erally, at the same time grimly smiling over the certain retri- 
bution which awaits the receiver. In fact, it is one of the in- 
conveniences of having Indian friends that, if one expresses 
admiration of anything they possess, it is almost invariably 



THE BLACKFEET. -O5 

handed over, and the unfortunate recipient of a joenny is in 
for a pound. In this case it is certain that, if the trader pur- 
chases a hundred horses during the trade which ensues, not 
one of the whole band will cost so dearly as that which de- 
monstrates the friendship and large-heartedness of the chief. 
For, immediately upon the knowledge of its receipt at the 
fort, the gate is again swung open, and there is sent out to the 
chief, in return, a gift of blankets, strouds, ammunition, and 
finery, under the combined weight of which he staggers off, 
looking like a vermilion Atlas. Such tangible proof of the 
corresponding size of the trader's heart being received, the 
chief addresses the assembled braves, exhorting them to con- 
duct themselves in an orderly and peaceable manner, and not 
prove him the possessor of a forked tongue by rude behavior. 
The braves, standing ready with their peltries, and eager to 
begin the trade, readily promise to observe his commands, 
and move up toward the gate of the stockade. 

The trader having returned to the post, all preparations 
for the trade are completed, communication cut off, men all 
stationed at their posts ready for anything that may turn up. 
Then the outer gate is thrown open, and the eager crowd 
rushes into the Indian-room, In a moment the door leading 
into the little hall-way connecting that apartment with the 
trading-store slides back, and two Indians with their peltries 
enter. Then the door slides into place again, and the other 
one opens, admitting the braves into the store. They look 
through the grating, select the articles they want, and pay 
for them in installments. An Indian never asks at once for 



206 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

everything he wants, and then pays for it in one payment ; 
but purchases one thing at a time, receives his change, then 
turns his attention to another. In this way he seems to get 
more for his money ; and the linked sweetness of shopping is 
longer drawn out. The trade is rapidly pushed, and the 
braves are at once returned by the double-barred process to 
the Indian-room, and a fresh batch admitted, Avhen the doors 
are again locked. 

The reappearance of each installment of fortunate braves, 
with the much-prized articles of ornament and use, continually 
augments the growing excitement of the waiting throng in the 
Indian-room. Each one is eagerly questioned as to what he 
saw, whether there was any of this or that article, and whether 
the supply would be likely to be exhausted before the ques- 
tioner's turn arrived. Each succeeding statement that there 
were on the shelves but a few guns, blankets, a little tea, sugar, 
etc., intensifies the anxiety, and the crush to get in increases 
in proportion, under the belief that everything will be gone. 
The announcement by the trader, through a loop-hole, that 
there will be enough for all, scarcely allays the confusion in 
any measure, the universal desire and rush to obtain the first 
choice still remaining. Thus the trade progresses until all 
the furs and provisions have changed hands, and there is 
nothing more to be traded. Sometimes, however, the trade 
does not proceed so smoothly. It frequently happens that 
the Blackfeet repair to the fort with but a small collection of 
robes and leather, under which circumstances, being of a fru- 
gal mind, they object to seeing their stock in trade go for a 



THE BLACKFEET. 20/ 

little tea and sugar. These objections generally assume the 
shape of bullets and knife-hacking, of which the walls of the 
Indian-room bear plentiful evidence. Then the trading-store 
is promptly closed, only to be re-opened when the sudden 
ebullition of anger has passed away. 

Upon the completion of the exchange of peltries and 
goods begins the horse-trading ; and the method of carrying 
it on depends much upon the humor which the Blackfeet ex- 
hibit. If they appear well satisfied with the trade of goods, 
then the horse-trading takes place immediately outside the 
stockade — the animals being led within as fast as purchased, 
and the Indians shown singly into the trading-store to be 
paid. If an aggressive spirit obtains, however, a single brave, 
with his pony or ponies, is admitted at a time within the yard 
of the stockade, the trade effected, and the owner paid and 
passed without the gate before the admission of a second. 
Perhaps a more than usual care is exercised during the pro- 
gress of this trade, from the fact that the Blackfeet generally 
all gather about the stockade at that time, and, the majority 
being already supplied with goods, they fail to recognize the 
necessity of longer preserving peaceful relations with the 
traders. 

A peculiarity of these trades lies in the fact that money 
values are unknown, everything being reckoned by skins, as 
is the case throughout a great portion of the company's 
territory. The skin is a very old term in the fur-trade, and is 
based upon the standard of the beaver-skin, or, as it is called, 
the made beaver. For example : a beaver, or skin, is reck- 



2o8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

oned equivalent to one mink-skin ; one marten is equal tc 
two skins, one buffalo-robe to six skins, a silver fox to twenty 
skins, and so on throughout the scale of fur. In a like 
manner all articles of merchandise have their value in skins. 
Thus a brave brings a pony, which is valued at fifty skins, 
and these fifty skins will be divided as follows : a kettle, five 
skins ; a blanket, ten skins ; a capote, ten skins ; ammunition, 
ten skins ; tobacco, fifteen skins. ' The brave hands over the 
pony, and receives in payment a capote, a blanket, a kettle, 
ammunition, and tobacco. The original skin, the beaver, 
now seldom makes its appearance at the Mountain House, 
those animals having been nearly exterminated in that part of 
the territory ; but, notwithstanding the fact of the marked 
deterioration in the price of the beaver-skin since it was 
originally adopted as the standard of value in the fur-trade, 
owing to the extensive use of silk in the manufacture of hats, 
it still nominally retains the fictitious value first placed 
upon it. 

A somewhat amusing illustration of the universal passion 
for dress, which forms a distinguishing characteristic of the 
Blackfeet, equally with other Indians, occurs in these trades. 
The fashionable costume of the red-man is not generally reg- 
ulated by the variable moods of the mercurial Parisian ; 
indeed, it has undergone but little change since the memory 
of men. Certain interesting specimens of the race are said to 
have been seen attired in even less than the vaunted Mexican 
costume — a shirt-collar and pair of spurs. We ourselves re- 
member to have seen one chastely appareled in a stove-pipe 



THE BLACKFEET. 209 

hat. But it frequently occurs, during the trades, that some 
doughty chieftain elects to appear in more than regal magnifi- 
cence before his tribe ; and for his benefit, and those of 
similar tastes, the company annually import certain ancient 
costumes prevalent in England some half-century since. The 
tall, stove-pipe hat, with round narrow brim ; the snuff-brown 
or bright-blue coat, with high, collar, climbing up over the 
neck, the sleeves tightly fitting, the waist narrow — this is the 
Blackfeet's ideal of perfection in dress, and the brave who 
can array himself in this antique garb struts out from the fort 
the envy and admiration of all beholders. Often the high hat 
is ornamented with a decayed ostrich-plume, drooping like 
the shadow of a great sorrow, which has figured in the turban 
of some dowager of the British Isles long years since. While 
the presence of trousers is considered by no means essential 
to the perfect finish of the costume, the addition of a narrow 
band of gold lace about the coat is regarded as imparting an 
air of tone to the general effect not to be obtained in any 
other way. For such a costume the Blackfeet brave will bar- 
ter his deer-skin shirt, beaded, quilled, and ornamented with 
the raven locks of his enemies ; his head-band of beautiful 
feathers and shells ; and the soft-tanned and flowing robe of 
buffalo-skin — a dress which adds a kingly dignity to his 
athletic form for one which Pantaloon would scorn to wear. 
Fortunately, the new dress does not long survive. Little by 
little it is found unsuited to the wild life which its owner 
leads, and, although never losing the originally high estimate 
placed upon it, is discarded at length by reason of the many 



2 lO THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

inconveniences arising from running buffalo in a plug-hat 
and fighting in a swallow-tail coat against the Crees. 

In the old days of the fur trade, when spirits were used as 
a medium of exchange, the most frightful scenes were wont to 
occur. First suggested as a stimulant to the manufacture of 
provisions, the amount given was limited to a small quantity 
to each Indian at the termination of a trade. Even then no 
drinking was permitted within a mile of the forts. Unfortu- 
nately for the moderate use of this incentive to pemmican- 
making, on the part of the redman, his acute intellect in- 
stantly conceived the idea of utilizing this particular provision 
as a perpetual legal tender for liquor. So he withheld his 
pemmican until the food supply ran short among the forts of 
the corporation, and forced a compliance with his own terms. 
For all the other wants of his savage life he had furs and 
robes to trade. The scenes that occurred in the Indian 
rooms of the forts, during the progress of a liquor and pem- 
mican trade, were not calculated to impress one favorably 
with the moral status of either his white or red brother. The 
spirit used was generally rum, which, although freely diluted 
with water, soon reduced the assemblage to a state of wild 
hilarity, quickly followed by stupidity and sleep. The 
strength of the fire-water dealt out was varied according to 
the capacity or hard-headedness of the different tribes. The 
liquor for the Crees, as living in the neighborhood of the forts 
and supposed to be capable of standing more, was composed 
of three parts of water to one of spirit ; that of the Blackfeet, 
a distant tribe, who had access to liquor infrequently, seven 



THE BLA CKFEE T. 211 

of water to one of spirit. So great, however, is the power 
which alcohol, in any form, exercises over the red-man that 
the Blackfeet, even upon their well-diluted liquor, were wont 
to become hopelessly intoxicated. 

A liquor trade generally began with a present of fire-water 
all round. Then business went on apace. After an Indian 
had taken his first drink, it was a matter of little difficulty to 
obtain all he had in exchange for spirits. Horses, robes, tents, 
provisions — all would be proffered for one more dram of the 
beloved poison. As the trade advanced it degenerated into a 
complete orgy. Nothing could exceed the excitement inside 
the room, except it was the excitement outside — for only a 
limited number of the thirsty crowd could obtain entrance at 
a time. There the anxious braves could only learn by hear- 
say what was going on within. Now and then a brave, with 
an amount of self-abnegation worthy of a better cause, would 
issue from the fort, with his cheeks distended and his mouth 
full of rum, and going along the ranks of his friends he would 
squirt a little of the liquor into the open mouths of his less 
fortunate brethren. There were times, however, when matters 
did not go on so peaceably. Knives were wont to flash and 
shots to be fired, and the walls of the Indian-rooms at many of 
the forts show frequent traces of bullet-marks and knife hack- 
ing, done in the wild fury of the intoxicated savage. Some 
seventeen years ago this baneful distribution was stopped by 
the company in the Plain districts, but the free-traders still 
continue to employ liquor as a means of acquiring the furs be- 
longing to the Indians. Great as was the quantity of pemmi- 



212 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

can obtained from the Indians during these trades — more 
than thirty thousand bags being stored in the company's forts 
at one time — it is still small as compared with the amount 
produced in a favorable year by the semi-annual buffalo-hunts 
of the nomadic half-breeds. 



CHAPTER X. 

Winter Travel. 

A UTUMN in the Fur Land merges by almost imper- 
•*- ^ ceptible degrees into winter. Nature yields reluctantly 
to the cold embraces of the Frost King. The yellow leaves 
cling tenaciously to the tree-tops ; the prairie grasses are still 
green when the snow comes. Early in November a thin 
covering of fleecy flakes veils the landscape ; but the South- 
ern sun is yet warm, and restores the autumal tints to the 
face of Nature. A few days later on, the contest begins 
anew : winter triumphs for a day, only to be again vanquished 
by autumn. At length the battle-ground is occupied equally 
by the contending forces. The traveled roads especially are 
claimed by each ; and, plowed and furrowed by their fierce 
forays, aff'ord neither the splendid sleighing of the later win- 
ter nor the dry wheeling of the summer. This has the effect 
of bringing out in full force the various methods of locomo- 
tion peculiar to the Fur Land. It is refreshing to view from' 
a window fronting a well-traveled highway the queer vehicles 
as they pass; and if the reader chooses to occupy one-half 
of our lookout, we can study the shifting panorama at leisure. 
The picture before us is framed by the window-sash, and 
has a dreary perspective of prairie, covered equally with snow 



2 14 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

and mud-bordered pools of water. The first object that comes 
into the foreground is the Red River cart. This vehicle 
figures prominently in all these northern scenes. It is a 
national institution, so to speak, and boasts of great solidity. 
No springs of any kind disfigure it, or alarm the passenger 
with their giddy and uncertain motion. He knows just 
when the wheels strike the ground, and understands exactly 
where he is. These carts are all of uniform shape, and are 
constructed entirely of wood, the axles and rims to the wheels 
forming no exception to the rule. Although this at first 
sight might appear to be a disadvantage, as denoting a want 
of strength, yet it is really the reverse, as in the country 
traversed by these vehicles, wood is always to be had in 
sufficient quantities to mend any breakage which may occur. 
The only tools necessary, not only to mend but to construct 
a cart, are an axe, a saw, and an auger ; with these the half- 
breed is independent so far as the integrity of his vehicle is 
concerned. Indeed, the cart may be described as a light 
box-frame poised upon an axle connecting two strong wooden 
wheels. These are of more than the usual diameter, and are 
enormously dished. As seats in vehicles are a superfluous 
luxury, only demanded by the effete civilization of the East, 
the half-breed eschews them altogether. The passenger sits 
on the bottom plank, usually the hardest one about the cart ; 
and as the bed of the vehicle is lower than the shafts, his 
heels are somewhat higher than his hips, which gives him the 
greater benefit of the inequalities in the road over which he 
.may pass. When, as is often the case, the cover is low and 



WINTER TRAVEL. 21$ 

narrow, so as to make necessary a forward inclination of the 
head toward the feet, it is easy to imagine the comfort of the 
posture as a whole. Frequently the passenger, after becom- 
ing weary of this position, and alternating it with an attempt 
to keep his balance on a carpet-bag or other bundle, takes 
his place with the driver on the shaft. He may sit opposite 
Antoine, back to back, or immediately behind him ; the first- 
named position being the most satisfactory to the olfactories, 
the last-named illustrating the brotherhood of races without 
any appreciable loss of space. With this vehicle, however, 
the native is independent of the rest of the world, and indif- 
ferent to the length of his journey. He straps a raw-hide 
over it at night and makes of 
it a tent ; he straps a raw-hide 
under it and makes of it a 
boat in which he crosses any 
stream he may meet. There 
are no stones to injure its 
wheels, and the prairie sod 
bears up the weight of the 

broad wooden felloes where an iron tire would break through. 
Huge trains of these vehicles are used in freighting over the 
northern plains ; and they furnish the chief means of land 
transportation in the country. 

The single cart kept by each half-breed instead of a 
buggy, and devoted to the conveyance of his wife and family, 
is, however, much more elaborately gotten-up than those des- 
tined for the commoner uses of freighting. The wheels and 
shafts are shaved down to more delicate proportions ; the 




2l6 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

body is decorated with certain mystical emblems m red and 
yellow ochre, supposed to represent flowers ; while over it is 
stretched a covering of oil-cloth or dressed skins to protect 
the fair traveler from the inclement weather. It is drawn, 
too, by the best pony in the half-breed's herd, and becomes 
as legitimate a subject of rivalry as the equipage of her more 
highly civilized sister. Like the freight cart, its wheels 
are always guiltless of grease. The creaking that results 
the natives are very proud of, having no wish, as they say, to 
steal upon people unawares, like a thief in the night. A 
perfectly new cart is seldom seen ; each being in a greater or 
less condition of fracture and dislocation, and splintered 
and bandaged with raw-hide thongs. 

Every cart is drawn by a single pony or ox ; the latter, 
which is most affected for freighting purposes, will draw a 
load of nine hundred pounds at the rate of twenty-five miles 
per day. The steed is fastened between the shafts by means 
of a rude harness, generally made of dressed ox-hide. We 
have seen this same harness, however, made in a much more 
novel fashion. In buffalo-hunting, when the harness gives 
out, it is the habit of the half-breed, always fertile of re- 
source, to manufacture a new one made all in one piece. 
Killing a buffalo bull, he skillfully marks out his harness 
on the hide of the fallen animal, then strips it off with his 
knife. A few hours' exposure in the sun dries it, a string or 
two supply the place of the necessary buckles, and it imme- 
diately does duty on the back of pony or ox. The long 
lines called shaganappi, that are used for so many purposes 



WINTER TRAVEL. 217 

in the country, are all made in a similar fashion. They are 
carved out from the hind-quarters of a bull, by forming a 
series of spirally-enlarging circular cuts, passing the knife 
under them, and lifting off the hide exactly like the skin of a 
well peeled apple or orange. The ends are then attached to 
two stakes, between which the strips being tightly stretched, 
soon become a straight and perfect line. 

In traveling with carts — the common method of summer 
locomotion on the northern plains — generally as many ponies 
run loose alongside as are worked in harness. These loose 
horses, one might fancy, would be prone to gallop away when 
they find themselves at liberty to do so. Nothing seems 
further from their thoughts; they trot along beside their 
harnessed companions as if they knew all about it. When 
the shaft animal tires, to change horses is the work of but a 
moment. Out comes one horse; the other is standing close 
by and never stirs while the hot harness is put on him ; in he 
goes into the rough shafts, and, with the crack of the driver's 
whip across his flanks, starts away with the rest. The fact 
that the pony may never have been in harness before makes 
no sort of difference to the driver. At first the animal re- 
fuses to move an inch; then comes loud and prolonged 
thwacking from half-breeds and Indians, Whips, raw-hide 
lines and sticks are freely used, when, like an arrow from a 
bow, away goes the pony ; suddenly he makes a dead stop, 
gives two or three plunges high in the air, and falls down flat 
upon the ground. Again comes the threshing, and again 

up starts the pony and off like a rocket. Ox-hide harness is 
10 



2 1 8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

tough ; a broken cart is easily mended ; and for all horses 
the native has this simple method of persuasion. 

In fine contrast to this method of locomotion appears the 
native horseman just passing. Mounted on a little wiry ash- 
colored pony, he rides with that free, swinging motion pecu- 
liar to the practiced equestrian. And he is, perhaps, one 
of the finest horsemen in the world. His long dark-blue 
capote, and jaunty fur cap with pendent tassel, impart some- 
thing of a military air to his appearance. He sits squarely 
upon a small pad of deer-skin, and rides with a long stirrup. 
Every motion of the horse, guided more by the pressure 
of the knee than the bridle-rein, is anticipated and met 
intuitively by the rider. There is no half-way gait with this 
impulsive horseman ; he goes either at a walk or a mad 
gallop, and seldom exchanges this method of locomotion 
save for the canoe, the snowshoe, or the dog-sledge. Com- 
mon pedestrianism is to him a lost art. The fact that he 
could walk to his next neighbor's door never seems to occur 
to him. 

His little lithe, sinewy ponies are faithful beyond descrip- 
tion, yet a fine-looking one is seldom seen. They stand 
about the dooryards with a discouraged, heart-broken air, 
and will take considerable pounding without much exhibi- 
tion of life. Yet they endure privations and hardships bet- 
ter than their more delicately-nurtured brethren. True, if 
you ride them about the settlements, you are at first nearly 
pitched over every gate and fence you come to. When your 
pony catches sight of one of these he makes for it, and sud- 



WINTER TRAVEL. 219 

denly stands stock still, as a hint to you to dismount and tie 
him up — an illustration of the gossiping habits of his late 
owner. But out on the plains the daily distance compassed 
by these ponies without breaking down altogether under it 
seems scarcely credible ; still less does it appear possible 
upon the food which they have to eat. Neither hay nor oats 
is given them — nothing but the prairie grasses, often dry 
as tinder, and eaten only during the frosty hours of the 
night. From forty to fifty miles a day, stopping only for 
one hour at midday, and going on again until late at night, is 
but average travel. 

Of course the stranger journeys on in constant fear lest 
the game little limbs will grow weary and give out ; but 
no, not a bit of it. An Indian pony does not die of hard 
travel. His shaggy coat roughens, and his flanks grow a 
little thinner, but still he goes on as pluckily as ever. If very 
tired he sometimes lags behind until his companions have 
disappeared behind some distant ridge in the prairie ; then he 
begins to look anxiously around, whinnying and trying to 
get along after his comrades, and suddenly breaks into a 
wild dash down the trail until he regains his fellows — far- 
away specks in the great waste before him. When the night 
camp is reached the little animal is stripped, the thong of soft 
buffalo-skin untied from his neck and twisted well about 
his forelegs as a hopple, and he jumps away into the darkness 
to find his night's provender. He feeds and lodges himself 
and carries his master ; all he gets in return is a water-hole 
cut in the ice for him in winter, and not always even that. 



220 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

Trotting briskly into the foreground comes a diminutive 
pony in harness. A moment after appears the long pair of 
shafts to which he is attached, and, just when you have given 
over all hope of ever seeing their end, comes the vehicle of 
which all this is the propelling power. It does not come 
straight into the scene, like any other well-conducted vehicle, 
but zigzags into it, winding from one side of the road to the 
other, as if it had a drop too much. It acts as a sort of peri- 
patetic pendulum, of which the diminutive pony is the pivot ; 
even the hinder parts of that animal partaking of the vibrat- 
ing motion of the vehicle, so that he seems certain only as to 
where his forelegs are going. This conveyance looks like a 
ship set on runners. It is very low amidships but very lofty 
as to poop and forecastle ; it is broad in beam, and, the 
runners being not more than six inches high, there is always 
a pleasing uncertainty as to when it will capsize. It inevi- 
tably must, sooner or later, but just when is the conundrum. 
There are two seats, one low down amidships, the other high 
up in the stern of the craft. The driver sits forward, yells 
constantly at his pony and pushes on the lines to increase its 
speed; the passengers sit aft, with anticipation written on 
their countenances, and the sensation of being whirled along 
without any visible motive power — the horse being so far 
distant as seemingly to bear no relation to the vehicle. It is 
the cariole, native to the country, and the best equipage for 
general love-making we know of. Darby and Joan take a 
seat in the stern of the craft ; the driver sits in the bow and 
looks at his horse alone, heaping on it plentiful profanity 



WINTER TRAVEL. 221 

discreetly veiled in the heathen tongues. The back seat, 
following the shape of the sledge, gravitates toward the 
centre; so do Darby and Joan, until they really seem to 




A CARIOLE. 



assimilate, so to speak. In fact, they are in a manner obliged 
to hold fast to each other, as the sledge overturns at the 
slightest provocation. It is a pleasant spectacle to see the 
well-freighted carioles, gay with gaudily-lined robes and 
wraps, careering along the highway ; but it is still more 
pleasant to sit on that back seat and slowly gravitate toward 
Clarise or Angelique. 

There comes midway into our picture the figure of a man 
moving over the surface of the snow with a swinging move- 
ment, like that of a fen-skater. Evidently he has something 
attached to his feet — something that clings to the toes, yet 
drops from the heels, and trails upon the snow as he raises 
a foot. Ah, he is a snowshoe runner ! 

To walk well on deep snow, to follow the dogs, to run 
down the moose, there is nothing like snowshoes. These are 
composed of a light wooden frame, about four feet in length, 



222 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

tapering from a width of about fifteen inches at the centre 
to points at either end, the toes being turned up so as to pre- 
vent tripping. Over this frame a netting of deer-skin sinews 
or threads is stretched for the foot of the runner to rest 
upon. The object of this appliance is by a thin network to 
distribute the weight of the wearer over so large a surface of 
snow as will prevent him from sinking. The credit of the 
invention is due to the Indians, and, like that of the canoe 
and other Indian instruments, it is so perfectly suited to the 
object in view as not to be susceptible of improvement by the 
whites. On snowshoes an Indian or half-breed will travel 
thirty, forty, and sometimes even fifty miles in twenty-four 
hours. It is the common and indeed the only available mode 
of foot-travel away from the public highways in winter. 

But here comes the winter vehicle of the Fur Land ! The 
traveler who lingers long at any season of the year about a 
Hudson Bay Company's fort will be struck with the unusual 
number of dogs lying about the square court during the day, 
or howling and fighting underneath his windows at night. 
To leave his door open at any time is only to invite an in- 
vasion of the wolfish brutes, who come crowding up, and 
seem inclined to take possession of the apartment. During 
the summer season they do nothing for man, but pass their 
time in war, love, robbery, and music, if their mournful howls 
can be dignified by that name. And yet, neglected as are these 
noisy, dirty animals in their months of idleness, unfed, kept 
in bare life by plunder, the mark for every passer's stick or 
stone, they are highly prized by their owners, and a team of 



WINTER TRAVEL. 223 

fine, good, well-trained dogs will bring a handsome price when 
the winter season approaches. Then two well-broken dogs 
become as valuable as a horse ; then it is the dogs that haul 
the sledges and that perform, in fact, nearly all the work of 
the country. 




Hudson's bay dogs. 



These animals are mostly of the ordinary Indian kind, 
large, long-legged, and wolfish, with sharp muzzles, pricked 
ears, and thick, straight, wiry hair. AVhite is one of the most 



224 '^HE GREAT FUR LAND. 

usual colors, but brown, blue-grey, red, yellow, and white 
marked with spots of black, or of the other various hues, are 
also common. Some of them are black with white paws, 
others are covered with long rough hair, like Russian setters. 
There are others of a light bluish-grey, with dark, almost black 
spots spread over the whole body. Almost all of them have 
black noses, but with some of the lighter-colored ones this 
part is red, brown, or pink, which has a very ugly effect. 
Most of them are very wolfish in appearance, many being 
half or partly, or all but entirely, wolves in blood. One 
frequently sees dark-grey dogs which are said to be almost 
pure wolves. Seen upon the prairie, it is almost impossible 
to distinguish them from the ordinary wolf of the middle- 
sized variety ; and their tempers are spoken of as a match for 
their looks. Indeed it often happens that the drivers of such 
dogs are obliged, before harnessing or unharnessing them, to 
stun them momentarily by a blow on the nose, on account of 
their savage natures. Many of the others, moreover, are 
nearly as bad, and need a touch of the same rough treatment. 
In some instances the worse animals are emasculated, with 
a view of improving their tempers without rendering them 
unfit for work. 

It sometimes happens, however, that among this howling 
pack of mongrels there may be picked out a genuine train of 
dogs. There is no mistake about them in size or form, from 
foregoer to hindmost hauler. They are of pure Esquimaux 
breed, the bush-tailed, fox-headed, long-furred, clean-legged 
animals, whose ears, sharp-pointed and erect, spring from a 



WINTER TRAVEL. 225 

head embedded in thick tufts of wooly hair. Or there may iJ 'J 
be a cross of Esquimaux and Athabascan, with hair so long / 
that the eyes are scarcely visible. These animals have come 
from the far-northern districts, and have brought a round sum 
to their owners. They are of much more equable temper than 
their wolfish brethren, and frequently have a keen apprecia- 
tion of kindness. To hauHs as natural to them as to point is 
natural to a pointer. Longer than any other dogs will their 
clean feet hold tough over the rough ice. But it is with dog- 
driving as with everything else ; there are dogs and dogs, and 
the difference between their mental and physical characteris- 
tics are as great as between those of average men. 

The vehicles to which dogs are harnessed in the Fur Land 
are of three kinds — the passenger-sledge, or dog-cariole, the 
freight-sledge, and the travaille. A cariole consists of a very 
thin board, usually not over half an inch thick, fifteen to 
twenty inches wide, and about ten feet long, turned up at one 
end in the form of a half circle, like the bend of an Ojibway 
canoe. To this board a light frame-work, resembling a coffin 
or a slipper-bath, is attached, about ' eighteen inches from the 
rear end. This frame-work is then covered over with buffalo- 
skin parchment, and painted and decorated according tO' 
taste. When traveling, it is lined with buffalo-robes andl 
blankets, in the midst of which the passenger sits, or rather 
reclines ; the vehicle being prevented from capsizing by the 
driver, who runs behind on snowshoes, holding on to a line 
attached to the back part of the cariole. The projecting end 

or floor behind the passenger's seat is utilized as a sort of boot 
10. 



226 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

upon which to tie baggage, or as a platform upon which the 
driver may stand to gain a temporary respite when tired of 
running. 

The freight-sledge is of more simple construction. It is 
made of two thin oak or birch-wood boards lashed together 
with deer-skin thongs. Turned up in front, like a Norwegian 
snowshoe — scarcely a quarter of a circle — it is from nine 
to twelve feet in length, and sixteen inches broad. It runs 



V 




1 

^^sJV>-*-Ar-<^V4 *" A CEglGHT-SLEDGE. 



over hard snow or ice with great ease. Along its outer edges 
a leather lashing is run, through the loops of which a long 
leather line is passed to tie down tightly to its surface what- 
ever may be placed upon it. From the front, close to the 
turned-up portion, in both baggage-sledge and cariole, the 
traces for draught are attached. 

Dogs in the Fur Land are harnessed in a number of ways. 
The Esquimaux run their dogs abreast. On the coast of 
Hudson's Bay they are harnessed by many separate lines 
into a kind of band or pack ; while in Manitoba and the 
Saskatchewan they are driven tandem. Four dogs to each 
sledge form a complete train, though three and even two 
are used, and are harnessed to the cariole by means of two 
long traces. Between these traces the dogs stand one after 
the other, with a space intervening between them of perhaps a 



WINTER TRAVEL. 2 27 

foot. A round collar, passing over the head and ears and 
fitting closely to the shoulder, buckles on each side to the 
traces, which are supported by a back-band of leather. This 
back-band is generally covered with tiny bells, the collar 
being hung with those of larger size, and decorated with 
party-colored ribbons or fox-tails. In no single article of 
property, perhaps, is greater pride taken than in a train of 
dogs turned out in good style ; and the undue amount of 
beads, bells, and ribbons, frequently employed to bedizen 
the poor brutes, produces the most comical effect when 
placed upon some terror-stricken dog, who, when first put 
into harness, usually looks the picture of fear, resembling 
a chief mourner clad in the garb of Pantaloon. The ludi- 
crous effect is intensified when the victim happens to be 
young in years, and still retains the peculiar ex,pression of 
puppyhood. 

The rate of speed usually attained in sledge-travel is about 
forty miles per day of ten hours, although this rate is often nearly 
doubled. Four miles an hour is a common dog-trot when the 
animals are well loaded ; but this can be greatly exceeded when 
hauling a cariole containing a single passenger upon smooth 
snow-crust or a beaten track. Very frequently extraordinary 
distances are compassed by a well-broken train of dogs. An in- 
stance is recorded where a young Scotch half-breed, driving 
the mail-sledge between Fort Garry and Pembina, was desir- 
ous of attending the wedding of his sister, which was to occur 
at seven o'clock of the morning following the evening of his 
regular departure for the latter place. To do this he would 



228 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

have to make the journey in a single night. Leaving Fort 
Garry at five o'clock in the evening, he reported again with his 
return mail at a quarter to seven o'clock the following morn- 
ing, having compassed a distance of one hundred and thirty- 
five miles in a single night with the same train of dogs. This 
remarkable speed is capable of ample verification. Sixty 
to eighty miles per day is not infrequently made in the way 
of passenger travel. INIr. McFarlane, a company's officer, 
made the journey down from Mackenzie River, a distance of 
twenty-one hundred miles, in forty-six traveling days, using 
the same dogs the entire way. An average train of four dogs 
will trot briskly along with three hundred pounds' weight 
without difficulty. Trains loaded to travel short distances 
with a barrel of liquor and two sacks of flour, or about six 
hundred and eighty pounds avoirdupois, are not an uncom- 
mon sight. This weight is exceptional, however, and only to 
be hauled when the roads are perfect. 

When light showers of snow fall in minute particles, as 
if it were frozen dew, from a sky without a cloud, and the sun 
shining brightly, the winter traveler in the Fur Land knows 
just what degree of cold he may expect. He knows that 
masses of ice, the size of a man's fist, will form on his beard 
and mustache, from the moisture of his breath freezing as it 
passes through the hair ; that his eye-lashes will have to 
be kept in rapid motion to prevent them from becoming 
permanently closed ; that his hands can scarcely be exposed 
for a moment ; that his bare fingers laid upon a gun-barrel 
will stick to it as if glued, from the instantaneous freezing of 



WINTER TEA VEL. 229 

their moisture ; that the snow will melt only close to the fire, 
which forms a trench for itself, in which it sinks slowly to 
the level of the ground ; that the snow, light and powdery, 
will not melt beneath the warmth of his foot, and his mocca- 
sins will be as dry on the journey as if he had walked through 
sawdust ; that a crust of ice will form over the tea in his tin- 
cup, as he sits within a yard of the roaring fire ; that he will 
have a ravenous appetite for fat, and can swallow great lumps 
of hard grease — unmoulded tallow candles — without bread or 
anything to modify it. So he drd^ses accordingly — that is, 
the white traveler. 

He first puts on three or four flannel shirts, one of duffel, 
and over all a leather one, beaded and fringed to suit the 
taste ; his hands are encased in mittaines, or large gloves of 
moose-skin, made without fingers, and extending well up 
toward the elbows ; loose enough to be easily doffed on 
occasion, and carried slung by a band about the neck to pre- 
vent being lost ; his feet are swathed in duffel, and covered 
with enormous moccasins ; his legs are encased in thick duffel 
leggins, until they resemble a severe case of elephantiasis ; his 
ears and neck are protected by a thick curtain of fur ; and 
yet, with it all, he is hardly able to keep warm with the most 
active exercise. 

With his Indian or half-breed companion it is different. 
Inured to the climate and accustomed to winter travel, he is 
comfortable under a meagre weight of clothing. He relies 
upon vigorous exercise for the development of caloric, and 
is constantly in motion. A pair of corduroy trousers, a cotton 



230 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

shirt, a capote, moccasins and a fur cap, constitute his winter 
costume. His hands are encased in mittaines, but in lieu of 
underclothing he ties his trousers tightly about the ankle, 
and the sleeves of his capote closely about the wrists. This, 
with the gaudy sash always wrapped around his waist, divides 
his clothing into two air-tight compartments, as it were. If 
it becomes cold in one, he always has the other in which to 
take refuge ; or, he can loosen his belt, thus turning on a 
supply of caloric, which equalizes the temperature in both 
compartments. Lightly cla.d, he is in excellent trim for run- 
ning, and seems warm and comfortable while his more heavily 
appareled companion shakes and shivers on the slightest halt. 

Next in importance to personal clothing on the winter 
journey is transportation ; and as the snow is too deep for 
horses to travel, the only available vehicle remaining is the 
dog-sledge. Upon this is placed the blankets and pemmican, 
together with the paraphernalia of the camp. Tents are not 
used for winter travel, as the huge fires necessary for com- 
fort and even safety could not be made available. In fact, 
unless it is desirable to make a long halt in any one locality, 
tents are only an incumbrance to the traveler, without adding 
proportionately to his comfort. Well sheltered by timber, 
and with an enormous fire blazing at his feet, sleeping in the 
open air is generally feasible enough. 

As to dogs for his sledge, the traveler follows the custom 
of the country and takes the best he can get. Every canine 
in the Fur Land, without regard to age, sex, or previous con- 
dition of servitude, hauls a sledge in the winter months ; so 



WINTER TRAVEL. 23 1 

that he has an unlimited opportunity of selection ; any one 
he may take being only the choice of a greater or less evil. 
He is always careful, however, not to select too many yellow 
dogs for service in the same train. The fact is, that in haul- 
ing the dog is put to a work from which his whole nature 
revolts ; that is to say, the ordinary yellow dog. The result 
being, that just when one imagines everything to be going on 
swimmingly, and after he is well wrapped in robes and fairly 
seated in the sledge, the four yellow dogs in front of him 
suddenly stop, face about in harness, seat themselves calmly, 
and with tears in their dark-blue eyes, break forth into howls 
of regret at their inability to proceed farther. There have 
been men distinguished for kindness and humanity toward 
their fellows, and yet who, when placed in circumstances like 
these, gave way to a sublimated and lurid profanity which 
would have curled the hair on a bronze idol. For mere dress- 
parade the yellow dog may do very well, but he is not to be 
relied upon as a steady and persistent hauler. The experi- 
enced traveler generally inclines to a large raw-boned canine 
of a grisly-grey color, and possessing many of the distinguish- 
ing characteristics of the wolf. This fellow is hard to manage, 
treacherous, and a fierce fighter. When near the settlements, 
the safety of young calves and pigs necessitate his being 
securely tied ; but he is a strong, untiring, and steady hauler, 
and his temper can be kept in subjection by the lash. 

To assist his own locomotion, the traveler ties on his 
largest pair of snowshoes, say five feet long and fifteen 
inches wide. A man can walk much faster on snowshoes, 



232 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

with a fair track, than on the best road without them ; but 
when the trail is frozen perfectly hard, the traveler casts 
them off, and runs behind the dogs, who are able to gallop at 
great speed along the slippery path ; and in this manner the 
most extraordinary journeys have been made. With a crack 
of the whip, and a harsh command to the dogs, the train 
moves off. After that, a perpetual shouting and cursing 
cracking of whips and howling of dogs, seems necessary to 
keep the cavalcade in motion. And it is scarcely to be 
wondered at when one comes to consider the conduct of the 
dogs at the very beginning of the journey. 

The start is generally made at a very early hour in the 
morning ; for the traveler invariably accomplishes a good 
portion of his day's tramp before breakfast. It is, say, two 
long hours before daybreak when the dogs are put in har- 
ness. It is a morning of bitter cold ; a faint old moon hangs 
low down in the east ; over the dreary stretch of snow-covered 
plain a shadowy Aurora flickers across the stars ; it is all as 
wild and cheerless a spectacle as the eye can look upon ; and 
the work of getting the unwilling dogs in their harness is done 
by the half-breeds in no very amiable mood. In the haste 
and darkness of the time but scant attention is given to getting 
the cowering brutes into their proper places in the traces. In 
consequence, when the traveler assumes charge of his sledge, 
an ominous tendency to growl and fight tells him that some- 
thing is wrong in his train. It is too dark to see plainly, but 
a touch of the cold nose of the leader informs him that the 
right dog is in the wrong place. It is too late, however, to 



WINTER TRAVEL. 



233 



rectify the mistake ; the half-breeds are already off. and the 
sound of their dire anathemas grows fainter and fainter upon 
the ear. So the whip is mercilessly applied, and, amid the 




yells of the unhappy brutes, the sledge grinds slowly off 
through the frozen snow. 

But the memory of that mistake rankles in the breast ut 



234 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

the foregoer ; and just when a steady pace is attained, and 
peace seems to have returned to the train, he suddenly coun- 
termarches in the harness, and prostrates the unoffending 
steerdog at his post. The attack, too, is made with so much 
suddenness and vigor that the wondering victim — who is 
perfectly contented with the change, having thereby won the 
easiest place in the train — instantly capitulates, and " turns 
a turtle " in his traces. The trouble might end here but 
for the fact that the unlooked-for assault is generally accom- 
panied by a flank movement on the part of the two middle 
dogs, who, when there is any fighting lying around, are pretty 
sure to have a tooth in on their own account. And having 
no particular grudge to take out, but only mad on general 
principles, they are equally indifferent in attacking the head 
of the rear dog or the tail of the one in front. This condition 
of things naturally leads to fearful confusion in the train ; 
they jump on one another ; they tangle their traces, and 
back-bands, and collar-straps, into inextricable knots and 
interlacings, which baffle the stiffened fingers of the angry 
traveler to unravel. Frequently they roll themselves into 
one huge ball, presenting the appearance of a hydra-headed 
dog, with multitudinous legs and innumerable tails. The 
rapid application of the whip only seems to make matters 
worse — conveying the idea to each infuriated dog that he 
is being badly bitten by an unknown antagonist. The trav- 
eler, having tried everything else, and with patience entirely 
gone, at last in sheer despair, but unwittingly, follows the 
example of the poet of Perth, who " stoode in ta middle of 



WINTER TRAVEL. 235 

ta roade and swoore at lairge ; " having a faint idea, neverthe- 
less, that he is in no way capable of doing justice to the 
subject. The effect, however, is magical ; the confused train 
straightens out under illimitable imprecation, with a celerity 
clearly illustrating the manner of its early training. As for 
the bewildered traveler, he has unwittingly discovered the 
true secret of dog-driving. 

By the time the mistake is rectified, however, and the dogs 
are tugging at their moose-skin collars in peaceful equanimity, 
the traveler's half-breed companions have disappeared in the 
distance. Extreme cold has a tendency to make men un- 
social ; in a fight with the elements, it is each man for him- 
self ; and the traveler knows he will be left alone until the 
camping-place is reached — possibly till night. 

Traveling thus day after day through the intense stillness 
and solitude of the snow-clad plain, without meeting a sign 
of man, and rarely seeing a living creature, strikes strangely 
upon the mind at first. The half-breed or Indian delights in 
wandering alone ; but the traveler who first tries the experi- 
ment, finds the silence and loneliness so oppressive as to be 
unbearable. He often journeys over a space where no tree 
or shrub breaks the monotony of the sky-line ; only the un- 
ending vision of snow and sky, the vague, distant, and ever- 
shifting horizon ; the long snow-ridges that seem to be rolled 
one upon another in motionless torpor, or, in a storm, moving 
like the long swells of the ocean ; the weird effect of sunrise 
and sunset, of night limiting the vision to almost nothing, and 
clothing even that in a spectral, opaque grey; of morning slowly 



^3^ THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

expanding it to a hopeless, shapeless blank ; the sigh and 
sough of the ceaseless wind, that seems an echo in unison 
with the immeasurable solitude of which it is the sole voice ; 
and, over all, the constantly growing sense of lonely, never- 
ending distance, which deepens upon the traveler as morning 
after morning dawns upon his onward progress under the 
same fantastic, ever-shifting horizon of snow and sky. 

All this becomes doubly intensified to the traveler left 
alone to shape his course for the day. But the reality of the 
storm, drift, and desolation, has the excitement of the very 
pain which they produce. To be lost in the blinding haze 
of a " poudre day ; " to have a spur of icy keenness urging 
him on to renewed effort ; to have the dead weight of that 
dread inertia, which always accompanies the traveler on 
northern plains, keeping him down with an iron grasp ; to 
have Despair constantly suggesting the futility of further ex- 
ertion ; to seek with dazed eyes and sickening fears, hour 
after hour, for the faint print of snowshoe or moccasin upon 
the snow ; to see night approaching, and not a thing of life 
or shape of shelter within the scope of vision ; to urge the 
tired dogs with whip and voice to fresh exertions, to greater 
effort in gaining some far-off aspen bluff, or willow copse, 
ere night shall wrap the dreary scene in darkness ; all this is 
but the reiterated recital of the traveler's daily misery. 

In the face of a cold, the intensity of which it is difficult 
to imagine, he must keep on. Right in his teeth blows the 
bitter blast ; the dogs, with low-bent heads, often face about 
in the traces, and can only be induced to proceed by repeated 



WINTER TRAVEL. 237 

thrashings ; the half-breeds, with blankets wrapped tightly 
over their heads, bend forward as they walk against the wind. 
To run is instantly to freeze ; to lie upon the sledge, even for 
a moment, is to chill the body through to the very marrow. 
Under these circumstances, the traveler is apt to wonder if 
the game is worth the candle. He compares himself with all 
the other adventurers who have gone on fool's errands since 
the world began, and finds the result very much to his own 
disadvantage. Like Touchstone, he is sorry he came. 

" Ros. Well, this is the Forest of Arden. 

Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I ; when I 
was at home, I was in a better place ; but travelers must be 
content." 

Small wonder when, after such a day of toil and hardship, 
the traveler sees through the gloom the haven he so long has 
sought — it may be only the camp-fire in the aspen-clump, or 
the dull glow of a chip-fire in a snow-drift — he hails with in- 
tense joy the gleam which tells him of a resting-place. And 
yet, as he stretches his weary limbs in the snow, or on the soft 
broom, he laughs at the fatigues and fears which, one short 
hour before, were heart-sickening enough. Yet so it is. 

When the light begins to fade over the silent plain, and 
the greyish, opaque pall settles slowly down upon the frozen 
landscape, the traveler looks about him for a good camping- 
place. A poplar thicket, or a pine bluff, supplies all his re- 
quirements — a few dead trees for fuel, a level space for his 
fire and his blankets, and broom for his bed. Every one sets 
to work as quickly as possible. One unharnesses the dogs 



238 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

and unpacks the sledges ; another collects dry logs ; a third 
cuts pine chips and starts the, fire; while a fourth shovels 
away the snow in front of the fire with a snowshoe, and 
strews the cleared ground with the pinebroom. Then all 
squat down, smoking and superintending the cooking of sup- 
per, the hungry dogs seated around anxiously waiting for their 
share. 

A pipe and smoke follow, then the blankets and robes are 
spread out for the bed. The operation of undressing is re- 
versed, and the traveler literally dresses for the night ; cover- 
ing head and all, and placing his feet as near the fire as 
he dares. All huddle together as closely as possible, and 
when silence reigns, the dogs creep softly in toward the fire 
and lie at the sleepers' feet. Then begins the cold. The 
mercury in the thermometer placed at the bedside sinks 
down — down, till it disappears in the bulb, and may be used 
as a bullet. The traveler is tired with his forty-mile march 
on snowshoes. Lying down with blistered feet and stiffened 
limbs, sleep comes to him by the sheer force of fatigue ; but 
the dim consciousness of that frightful cold never for an 
instant leaves his waking brain ; and, as he lies in a huddled 
heap beneath his robes, he welcomes the short-haired, shiver- 
ing dog, who, forced from his cold lair in the snow, seeks 
warmth on the outside of his master's blankets. 

Strange as it may appear to those who, living in warm 
houses and sleeping in cosy rooms from which all draughts 
are zealously excluded, deem taking one's rest in a poplar 
thicket, at such a temperature, next to an impossibility, it is 



WINTER TRAVEL. 239 

quite the reverse. The men who brave such dangers are 
made of sterner stuff, and do not perish so easily. On the 
other hand, it frequently occurs that when, before dawn, 
the fire again glows ruddily, and the cup of tea is drank 
hot and strong, the whole discomfort of the night is forgotten 
— forgotten, perhaps, in the dread anticipation of a cold still 
more trying in the day's journey to come. 

Day after day the same routine of travel is pursued. To 
rise at three o'clock of the bitterly cold mornings, to start 
at four, and plod on till dark, halting twice for an hour 
during the day, is the dull history of each day's toil. No 
literary skill is able to enliven the dreary monotony of the 
journey. In front goes a train of dogs, floundering along 
in the deep snow ; then the other trains wind along upon 
a firmer footing. As the day wanes, the dogs begin to tire, 
but still go on as gamely as ever. At sundown the trains 
have straggled widely apart, the weaker ones dropping far to 
the rear. The dogs begin to look wistfully back at the driver 
running behind the sledge, who, "filled with strange oaths," 
only responds to their pathetic appeals with fiercer impreca- 
tions. Dogs and men seem to go forward from the mere 
impulse of progression. All have been tired long since ; not 
partially so, but regularly weary ; yet, somehow, the sense 
of weariness seems to have passed away ; the step forward 
upon the snowshoe is taken by a mere mechanical effort, 
destitute alike of sense or feeling. Where all is a wilderness, 
progression means preservation ; and sick or sore, weary and 
blistered, the traveler must push on. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE FUR HUNTER. 



'' I "^HE most expert hunters and trappers of fine furs in the 
-^ Hudson's Bay Territory are the Wood-Indians — Crees, 
Beavers, and others — and from them are traded the greater 
portion of the peltries exported by the company. They are 
of different habits and dispositions from their relatives, the 
Plain-Indians — a sort of solitary hunters and trappers on foot, 
contrasted with a race of gregarious horsemen. Generally 
very peaceable, they pride themselves upon an honesty un- 
known to their lawless brethren of the prairies ; and although 
great beggars, and inclined to importune one to give them 
different things to which they may take a fancy, yet they 
never offer to dispute one's right of ownership. Expert 
hunters of moose, and occasionally seeking the buffalo, when 
they enter the skirts of the timber in winter, yet they confine 
their labors in the main to trapping the smaller furs. As a 
consequence, they are better clothed and equipped than 
the Plain-Indians, being able to obtain what they require 
at the trading-posts in exchange for furs. On the other 
hand, they often suffer severely from starvation, owing to 
the increasing scarcity of the larger animals ; while the Plain- 
Indians, following the buffalo, seldom lack food, although 



THE FUR HUNTER. 24 1 

they possess but little marketable property wherewith to 
buy clothes and luxuries at the forts. 

Upon the arrival of the summer and autumn boat-brig- 
ades at the different posts throughout the Fur Land, bring- 
ing supplies of merchandise for the trade of the ensuing year, 
it is the custom of the company to issue to their hunters and 
trappers goods up to a certain amount, to be returned in furs 
at the end of the season. These advances are generally all 
made by the month of November, so that the hunters may be 
in readiness for the season's work. 

The different methods by which the Indian succeeds 
in snaring and trapping animals are many. But as by far 
the most numerous of the more valuable of the fur-bear- 
ing animals of the territory are the marten and mink, to the 
capture of the former of these two — the sable of the trade — 
the exertions of the trappers are principally directed. By the 
beginning of November the animals have got their winter 
coats, and fur is in season, or ''prime," as the phrase is ; and 
the Indian trapper, who has taken up his residence in some 
favorite locality, now prepares to lay out his trapping-walk. 
As he has a long tramp before him, and the temperature is 
below zero, he attires himself in the winter costume of the 
trapper : a large deer-skin or duffel capote, very much over- 
lapped in front, and fastened about his waist by a brilliant 
worsted sash, protects his body from the cold ; a small rat or 
fox-skin cap covers his head, while his legs are encased in 
the ordinary blue-cloth leggin ; large moccasins, with two or 

three pairs of duffel socks — simple squares of blanket cloth — 
II 



242 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

clothe his feet ; and huge mittaines, extending to the elbow, 
complete his costume. Into his belt he thrusts a small axe 
or hatchet, which serves as a balance to the huge hunting- 
knife and fire-bag hanging from the other side. His pack is 
prepared in the following manner : 

In the middle of his blanket he places a piece of pemmi- 
can, sufficient for five or six days' consumption ; as much tea 
as he can get ; a tin kettle and cup ; and, if he be rich, some 
steel traps, and a little sugar and salt. A gun and ammuni- 
tion complete his outfit. Doubling the blanket over all, he 
ties it down upon a small hand-sledge, or tobogan. This 
hand-sledge is a thin flat slip of wood, from five to six feet 
long by one broad, and turned up at the end in a consider- 
able curl. It is very light, and the Indians always use it 
when laying out their walks, or in visiting their traps, for the 
purpose of carrying their provisions and hauling home the 
animals or game they may have caught. Tying on a pair of 
snowshoes, he throws the line of the hand-sledge over his 
shoulder, and starts alone into the gloomy forest. 

A sky of darkness is above, bleak wilds and frozen lakes 
before him ; the recesses of the forest, the icy margins of 
the lakes must be traversed, for there are the haunts of the 
sable. Silently forward he trudges ; for the trapper can never 
enliven the solitude of his journey by whistling or a song. 
The cold is below zero, but the fur will prove all the finer. 
Nerved by necessity, and stimulated by the love of gain, on 
he presses. Fatigue and cold exhaust him ; a snow-storm 
overtakes him ; the bearings and landmarks are obliterated 



THE FUR HUNTER. 243 

and forgotten ; sometimes provisions fail, and he who has 
promised a speedy return is seen no more. 

The trapper, be he white man or Indian, of necessity leads 
a solitary, desolate, and dangerous life. To be alone in the 
trackless forest demands a courage and endurance of no 
ordinary kind. The lone trapper knows not the emulation, 
the wild dash and hurrah of the soldier, as he marches up to 
the deadly breach ; he cannot feel that powerful incentive to 
be brave arising from the knowledge that a gallant deed will 
be handed down, with this name, to poserity ; he has no 
opportunity for display before his fellows ; alone with nature 
and his Creator, he is self-dependent, and his indomitable 
courage can only spring from a firm reliance on his own 
strength. 

As he penetrates the forest, his keen eyes scan every mark 
upon the snow for the tracks he seeks. The perceptions of the 
Indian or half-breed are so nice, his attention so constantly 
on the alert, and his conclusions so rapidly formed, that he 
draws inferences from general signs with great readiness and 
accuracy. As a consequence, he reads signs left behind by 
a passing animal as readily and truly as if he had been per- 
sonally present and witnessed the whole scene. It matters 
little whether they are fresh or half obliterated ; he never 
makes a mistake in his perusal of the language of tracks — 
marks left printed in that book the hunter knows so well — 
the face of Nature. When he observes the footprints of 
marten or fisher, he unstraps his pack, and sets to work to 
construct a wooden trap in the following manner : 



244 THE GREA T EUR LAND. 

Having cut down a number of saplings, he shapes them 
into stakes of about a yard in length. These are driven into 
the ground so as to form a small circular palisade or fence, 
in the shape of half an oval, cut transversely. Across the 
entrance to this little enclosure, which is of a length to admit 
about two-thirds of the animal's body, and too narrow to per- 
mit it to fairly enter in and turn around, a thick limb or thin 
tree-trunk is laid, with one end resting on the ground. A 
tree of considerable size is next felled, stripped of its branches, 
and so laid that it rests upon the log at the entrance in a 
parallel direction. Inside the circle a small forked stick 
holds a bit of dried meat, or a piece of partridge or squirrel, 
as a bait. This is projected horizontally into the enclosure, 
and on the outer end of it rests another short stick, placed 
perpendicularly, which supports the large tree laid across the 
entrance. The top of the trap is then covered over with bark 
and branches, so that the only means of access to the bait 
is by the opening between the propped-up tree and the log 
beneath. It is a guillotine with a tree instead of a knife. 

The marten or fisher creeps under the tree and seizes the 
bait. Finding himself unable to pull it off, he backs out, still 
tugging at the forked stick to which the bait is attached. 
Just as the centre of his back comes under the fall or tree, he 
loosens the baited stick, which lets slip the small supporting 
one, which in turn lets fall the large horizontal log. Down it 
comes on his back, killing him instantly, but doing no injury 
to the fur. Wherever marten tracks are plentiful in the 
snow, a deadfall is erected ; an expert trapper being able to 



THE FUR HUNTER. 245 

make forty or fifty of them in a day. These he scatters over 
a long line of country, it may be ten or fifteen miles in length. 
Once a week he starts forth to visit this line of deadfalls, 
gathering the furs taken, repairing the broken traps and setting 
them again. 

The numerous lakes and swamps in the forest are always 
sought by the trapper, not only because they enable him to 
travel more rapidly, and penetrate further into the less hunted 
regions, but also because the edges of the lakes and the por- 
tages between them are the favorite haunts of the fox, the 
fisher, and the mink. Where the lakes are shallow, the water 
apparently freezes to the bottom, except in the deepest parts, 
where air or breathing holes exist in the ice. The water in 
these holes is crowded with myriads of fish, most of them of 
small size, but so closely packed that they cannot move freely. 
On thrusting in an arm, it seems like plunging it into a mass of 
thick mud. The snow in the vicinity is beaten down as hard 
and level as a road, by the numbers of animals which flock to 
these Lenten feasts. Tracks converge from every side ; here 
the footprints of the cross and silver-fox, delicately impressed 
in the snow as he trots daintily along with light and airy 
tread ; the rough marks of the clumsier fisher ; the clear, 
sharply-defined track of the active 
mink ; and the great coarse trail of 
the ubiquitous, ever-galloping wol- 
verine. Around the margins of these steel traps. 
lakes the trapper erects his deadfalls, certain of securing an 
abundant harvest. 




246 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Beavers, wolves, foxes, lynx, and the other larger animals, 
are generally caught by the steel trap. These traps resemble 
the ordinary rat-trap, except that they are larger, have no 
teeth, and the springs are double. Those used for wolves 
and lynx, especially, are of very large size, and the springs are 
so powerful that it requires all the force of a strong man to 
set them. A chain is attached to one spring, with a ring at 
the free extremity, through which a stout stake is passed, or a 
weight fastened, and left otherwise unattached. When the 
animal is caught, he carries the trap for a short distance, but 
is soon brought up by the stake or weight becoming entangled 
across the trees or fallen timbers. The track in the snow 
soon leads to his discovery by the hunter. In setting the 
trap, it is generally placed so that the jaws, when spread out 
flat, are exactly on a level with the snow : the chain and 
stake both being carefully hidden, and a thin layer of 
snow carefully sprinkled over the top of the trap itself. 
Fragments of meat are then scattered about, and the place 
smoothed down so as to leave no trace. The fox or wolf, 
feeding about, generally gets one leg in the trap, sometimes 
both legs at once, and occasionally the nose. The trap- 
per prefers catching the animal by two legs if possible, as 
then there is not the slightest possibility of escape ; whereas, 
the fox caught by one leg, often eats it off close to the trap 
and escapes on the other three. The stump soon heals up 
again, and becomes covered with hair. When caught by the 
nose, they are almost certain to escape, owing to its wedge- 
like shape, unless taken out of the trap very soon after 



THE FUR nUNTER. 247 

being caught. The wolf is the most difficult animal to catch 
in the steel trap, being so sagacious that he will scrape 
all round one, let it be ever so well set, and after eating all 
the bait, walk away unhurt. The hunter catches them, how- 
ever, by setting two traps close together, so that, when the 
Avolf scrapes at one, he is almost certain to get his foot in the 
other. 

In the remoter districts many of the larger fur-bearing 
animals are caught by means of the poisoned bait. These 
are simply small pieces of meat into the centre of which 
strychnine has been inserted by means of a small hole. When 
frozen it is impossible to distinguish any diiiference in appear- 
ance between them and the harmless ones. The baits are 
purposely made very small, so that, in the ordinary course, 
they will be bolted whole, and are scattered along the paths 
traversed by the animals. Poison is rarely used, however, in 
the vicinity of settlements, owing to the danger of destroying 
valuable train-dogs, or upon the open prairie, where it is, 
liable to poison the grasses, and so become dangerous tO) 
horses and cattle. Wire and twine' nets are also frequently 
used in trapping furs, though principally directed against the 
lynx, or wild cat. 

Though well nigh extinct in many parts of the Fur Land, 
yet in others the beaver has held his own against all comers. 
Nearly thirty thousand of these little builders are annually 
caught along the shores and swampy shallows of Peace River, 
notwithstanding the fact that they are a very difficult animal 
to trap. A shallow lake is their favorite place of abode. 



248 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Along its edges, where rushes and sedgy plants appear above 
the ice and snow, rise a number of small earthy mounds, 
while around it the trees are felled in all directions, as if the 
land had been cleared for farming. This is a beaver colony. 
In summer and autumn the spot is a lively place enough, but 
in winter there are no signs of animal life, the beaver keeping 
within doors. 

Arrived upon the ground, the trapper knows at a glance 
the various signs of the animal's presence. Cutting down a 
few stakes, he proceeds to point them at the ends ; and then 
breaking the ice from around the beaver-lodges, he drives 
them between it and the shore. This prevents the beaver 
from running along the passage which they always keep from 
their lodges to the shore, where their storehouse is located, 
and imprisons those now in the lodge. The trapper next 
stakes up those in the storehouse on shore in the same man- 
ner, and thus imprisons those who may have fled there for 
shelter, on hearing the sound of the axe at the lodge. Then, 
taking his axe, he cuts through the lodge ; no very easy mat- 
ter, owing to the vast amount of frozen sticks and mud of 
which it is constructed. At last, laying bare the interior of the 
structure, he reaches in his hand, gives a pull, and out comes 
a fat sleepy beaver, which he flings upon the snow. A blow 
upon the head from the axe puts an end to it, and the opera- 
tion is again repeated, until all the inmates are killed and 
packed upon the hand-sledge. For the Indian gorges on fat 
ibeaver, and never throws away the meat. 

If it is the early autumn, however, and the ice has not 



THE FUR HUNTER. 249 

yet formed about the beaver-lodges, the hunter catches the 
animal in a steel trap. He first finds out how the beaver gets 
into his home, which is generally in shallow water. Then a 
steel trap is sunk in the water, care being taken to regulate 
the depth, so that it may not be more than twelve or fourteen 
inches below the surface. This is accomplished by either 
rolling in a log, or building in large stones. Immediately 
over the trap is the bait, made from the castor or medicine 
gland of the beaver, suspended from a stick, so as to just 
clear the water. With a long cord and a buoy, to mark the 
position of the trap when the beaver swims away with it, the 
trap is complete. The unsuspecting beaver, returning to his 
lodge, scents the tempting castor, purposely placed in his 
road. As he cannot reach it as he swims, he feels about with 
his hind-legs for something to stand on. This, too, has been 
carefully placed for him. Putting down his feet to stretch 
up for the coveted morsel, he finds them suddenly clasped in 
an iron embrace ; there is no hope of escape. The log, re- 
vealing his hiding-place, is seized by the trapper, the im- 
prisoned beaver dispatched by a single blow on the head, and 
the trap set again. A trapper will sometimes spend many 
weeks encamped near a good beaver village. 

The most dire and untiring enemy of the fur-hunter is 
the wolverine, or North American Glutton — following his 
footsteps, and destroying the martens after they are caught. 
This curious animal is rather larger than the badger, with 
a long body, stoutly and compactly made, mounted on 

exceedingly short legs of great strength. His feet, large and 
11* 



250 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

powerful, are armed with sharp, curved claws. Voracious and 
blood-thirsty, there hardly lives a more cunning and crafty 
animal. During the winter months he obtains a livelihood 
by availing himself of the labors of the trapper. With un- 
tiring perseverance he hunts day and night for the trail of 
man, and when it is found, follows it unerringly, until he 
arrives at one of the wooden traps. Avoiding the door, 
he speedily tears open an entrance at the back, and seizes the 
bait with impunity. If the trap contains an animal, he drags 
it out, and, with wanton malevolence, tears it and hides it in 
the underbrush, or in the top of some lofty pine. When hard 
pressed by hunger, he occasionally devours it. In this man- 
ner he demolishes a whole series of traps ; and when once 
a wolverine has established himself on a trapping-walk, the 
hunter's only chance of success is to change ground, and 
build a fresh lot of traps, trusting to secure a few furs before 
his new path is found out by his industrious enemy. 

Such serious injury does the wolverine inflict, that he has 
received from the Indians the name of Kekwaharkess, or 
*' The Evil One." Strange stories are related by the trappers 
of the extraordinary cunning of this animal, which they 
believe to possess a wisdom almost human. He is never 
caught by the ordinary deadfall. Occasionally one is 
poisoned, or caught in a steel trap ; but his strength is so 
great that it requires a strong trap to hold him. He seems 
even to suspect the poisoned bait, and bites in two and tastes 
every morsel before swallowing it. 

Despite the hardships and fatigues which attend it, there 



THE FUR HUNTER. 2$ I 

is something strangely attractive in the trapper's life. The 
grand beauty of the forest whose pines, some of which tower 
up over two hundred feet in height, are decked and mantled 
in snow, and where no sound is heard, except the explosions 
of trees cracking with the intense frost, excites admiration 
and stimulates curiosity. The interest in the pursuit is 
constantly kept up, by the observance of tracks, the inter- 
pretation of their varied stories, and the accounts of the dif- 
ferent habits of the animals as related by one's wild com- 
panions. There is also no small amount of excitement in 
visiting the traps previously made, to see whether they contain 
the looked-for prize, or whether all the fruits of hard labor 
have been destroyed by the vicious wolverine. But on the 
other hand, the long laborious march, loaded with a heavy 
pack, and covered with a quantity of thick clothing, through 
snow and woods beset with fallen timber and underbrush, is 
fatiguing enough. Provisions usually fall short, and the 
trapper subsists, in a great measure, on the animals captured 
to obtain the fur. As soon as the skins of the marten and 
fisher are removed, their bodies are stuck on the end of a 
stick, and put to roast before the fire, looking for all the 
world like so many skewered cats. The only change in the 
fatiguing monotony is the work of making traps, or the rest 
in camp at night. 

Selecting a large pine-tree for his night camp, the trapper 
scrapes away the snow from about its roots with a snowshoe. 
Clearing a space seven or eight feet in diameter, and nearly 
four feet deep, he cuts the pinebroom from the ends of the 



252 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

branches above him, and strews them at the bottom of the 
hollow, till the snow is covered. This done, he collects a 
huge pile of firewood and heaps it about the foot of the tree. 
The ruddy flame glances up among the branches overhead, 
and sends a myriad of sparks into the air. The sombre forest 
undergoes a sudden and magical transformation. Before, it 
was cold, silent, gloomy, desolate, and the pale snow looked 
spectral in the dark. Now, the thick stems of the trees are 
bathed in a genial glow, which penetrates the branches above, 
tinting those near the fire with a ruby tinge. The white snow 
changes to a beautiful pink, while the tree-trunks, bright and 
clearly visible close at hand, become more and more indis- 
tinct in the distance, till they are lost in the gloom. The 
snow walls about the trapper sparkle as if set with diamonds. 
They do not melt as might be expected ; the cold is too in- 
tense for that, and nothing melts except the snow quite close 
to the fire. 

Lying on a soft elastic couch of pine boughs, at his feet a 
roaring fire of great trees heaped high, from which arises an 
enormous cloud of smoke and steam, the hunter, wrapped in 
his blanket, sleeps in peace. Sometimes, however, when the 
cold is very intense, or the wind blows strongly, a single 
blanket is poor protection. The huge fire is inadequate to 
prevent the freezing of one extremity, while it scorches the 
other. Sleep is impossible, or if obtained, is quickly broken 
by an aching cold in every limb as the fire burns low. 



A WINTER CAMP. 



253 




CHAPTER XII. 



A WINTER CAMP. 



TOURNEYING along the line of open country extend- 
•^ ing between the North Saskatchewan River and the great 
forest region stretching out toward the Polar Sea, in company 
with a party of half-breed plain-hunters, we reached, one 
dreary evening in November, one of those curious communi- 
ties which are to be found in winter only along the borders of 
the great plains of the Fur Land. Nothing like them exists 
on the plains of the United States territories, because the 
peculiar nomadic population necessary to their being is lack- 
ing. On the south side of the forty-ninth parallel there are 
comparatively few half-breeds ; on the north side there are 
half-breeds whose great-grandfathers were half-breeds. 

Situated in the sparse timber bordering a small tributary 
of the Saskatchewan, the community consisted of French 
half-breed hunters engaged in the usual winter quest of buffalo. 
It was a picturesque though not over cleanly place, and will 
probably look better in a photograph than it did in reality. 
Some thirty or forty huts crowded irregularly together, and 
built of logs, branches of pine-trees, raw-hides, and tanned 
and smoked skins, together with the inevitable tepee, or Indian 
lodge ; horses, dogs, women and children, all intermingled in 



A WINTER CAMP. 255 

a confusion worthy of an Irish fair ; half-breed hunters, rib- 
boned, leggined, tasseled and capoted, lazy, idle, and, if 
liquor was to be had, sure to be drunk ; remnants and wrecks 
of buffaloes lying everywhere around ; here a white and 
glistening skull, there a disjointed vertebra but half denuded 
of its flesh ; robes stretched upon a framework of poles and 
drying in the sun ; meat piled upon stages to be out of the 
way of dogs ; wolf-skins, fox-skins, and other smaller furs, 
tacked against the walls of the huts, or stretched upon minia- 
ture frames hanging from the branches of trees ; dusky women 
drawing water and hewing wood ; and at dark, from every 
little hut, the glow of firelight through the parchment win- 
dows, the sparks glimmering and going out at the chimney- 
tops, the sound of violin scraped and sawed by some long- 
haired Paganini, and the quick thud of moccasined heel, as 
Baptiste, or Franpois, or Pierrette footed it ceaselessly on the 
puncheon-covered floor. 

Inside the huts a bare floor of pounded earth, or half- 
hewn boards ; in one corner a narrow bed of boughs, covered 
deep with buffalo robes ; a fireplace of limited dimensions, a 
few wooden trunks or cassettes ; a rude table and a iew 
blackened kettles ; on the walls an armory of guns, powder- 
horns and bullet-bags ; on the rafters a myriad of skins. 
Every hut was the temporary home of several families, and 
we have slept in structures of this kind, of not more than 
twelve by fifteen feet in superficial area, where the families 
ranged from fifteen to twenty members, of all ages and both 
sexes. It might be useful to investigate the influence of this 



256 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

mode of life upon manners ; whatever may be the result upon 
the coarser sex, its effect upon women and children is not so 
lamentable as may be supposed ; no perceptible lowering of 
tone or compromising of taste follows, nor does the nature of 
young girls, thus exposed to the gaze of an indiscriminate 
crowd, change as much as might be expected ; the hereditary 
sentiment, " honi soil qui mal y pefise,'' is too deeply seated 
for that. 

As a rule the winter hunters are of French origin, de- 
scendants of the old traders and trappers of the Northwest 
and X. Y. Fur Companies, though by long intermarriage 
the blood of three or four nationalities often mingles in their 
veins. Their grandfathers have been French-Canadian, their 
grandmothers Cree or Ojibway squaws ; English and Black- 
feet and Assiniboine have contributed to their descent on the 
mother's side. 

Now, as in the olden time of the fur-trade, there is no 
uniform price for squaws, their qualifications being taken 
into account, and a price demanded in accordance with their 
capacity to render service. Usually one may be purchased 
for a pony, a small quantity of flour and sugar, a little 
tobacco and a bottle of whisky. But woe to the purchaser if 
he should make his abode at any point convenient of access 
to the band to which his squaw belonged. While she is with 
the tribe the squaw is kicked about and whipped by any one 
that takes a notion to do so. When she becomes the white 
man's squaw things are different. There is not an Indian she 
meets who does not claim relationship with her. She is sistei 



A WINTER CAMP. 257 

to most of them and first cousin to the remainder. They meet 
her with a kiss, and she feels that she must ask them in to din- 
ner, and give each one something to remember her by. The 
result of all this is, that the white man soon finds that he has 
married an entire Indian tribe, and has made an ante-7nortem 
distribution of bi€ property. 

Many of the women in the winter camp were clearly of 
unmixed Indian blood. Their general occupation, like that 
of all the married women in the camp, when not engaged in 
culinary duties, seemed to be the dissemination of nourish- 
ment from the maternal font to swarms of children. This 
maternal occupation among the half-breeds is protracted to 
an advanced age of childhood, a circumstance probably due 
to the fact that for four days after its birth the newly-born 
infant receives no nourishment from its mother, in order that 
in after life it shall be able to withstand the pangs of hunger. 
The infantile mind, doubtless being conscious that it has 
been robbed of its just right, endeavors to make up for lost 
time by this prolongation of the term of nursing. In a simi- 
lar manner the half-breed doubtless obtains his appetite for 
strong drink from the fact that the first thing administered 
to him after birth is a spoonful of strong port wine, or even 
spirits, in order to insure him a vigorous constitution in 
after life. From the persistency with which he follows this 
practice as he grows older it is only fair to suppose that he 
is insuring himself a vigor of constitution which will carry 
him into the nineties. 

Children, however, eat freely of buffalo or other meat. 
In fact, half-breed and Indian life know only two seasons — 



3'38 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the feast time and the famine. When in camp in the neigh- 
borhood of the buffalo-herds, or other game, living on the 
fattest hump and tongues, the moose nose, or the daintiest 
tidbit of forest and stream ; when on the march, glad to get 
a scrap of dried meat or a putrid fish to appease the cravings 
of hunger. While the meat lasts, life is one long dinner. A 
child scarce able to crawl is seen with one hand holding a 
piece of meat, the other end of which is tightly held between 
the teeth, while the right hand wields a knife with which it 
saws away between fingers and lips till the mouthful is de- 
tached. We have never seen a native minus his nose, but 
how noses escape amputation under these circumstances is 
an unexplained mystery. 

The amount of meat consumed in a winter camp is sim- 
ply enormous. In every hut feasting is kept up from morn- 
ing till night, and it is impossible to enter the dwelling of 
a half-breed without being invited to dine. As a refusal is 
regarded in the light of an intentional slight to the host, it 
happens that the unwary guest goes about in a highly surfeited 
condition. The invitation to eat forms, however, the most 
prominent feature of half-breed hospitality, and is alwavs ex- 
tended in the kindest and politest manner. If spirits are 
attainable, the feast sometimes occupies a secondary position, 
but in one form or the other the stranger within the gates is 
invariably invited and expected to participate. With the 
half-breeds themselves the custom is invariable, and no well- 
regulated metis expects to leave his neighbor's door without 
a feast of the best viands in the house. And a feast with 
this hybrid personage means no small draft upon the larder, 
for, if the half-breed can starve better than any other man, 



A WINTER CAMP. 259 

he can equally surpass other men in the quantity of food 
which he can consume at a sitting. For long days and 
nights he can go without any food at all ; but catch him in 
camp when the buffalo are near and the cows are fat, and 
you will learn what a half-breed can do in the way of eating. 

Here is one bill of fare, as given by a traveler in the 
North,* which may seem incredible, and yet we can vouch 
for it as not being a whit exaggerated : " Seven nfen in thir- 
teen days consumed two buffalo-bulls, seven cabri deer, fifty 
pounds of pemmican — equal to half a buffalo — and a great 
many ducks and geese, and on the last day there was noth- 
ing to eat. This enormous quantity of meat could not have 
weighed less than sixteen hundred pounds at the very lowest 
estimate, which would have given a daily ration to each man 
of eighteen pounds ! " Incredible as this may seem, it is by 
no means impossible in a severe climate and living the active 
life these men lead. We remember camping one evening with 
three half-breed plain-hunters beside a buffalo-calf they had 
killed shortly before dusk. The men began cutting the animal 
up and feasting upon it. They were eating when we retired for 
the night, and were still hovering over the fire when we arose 
early in the morning. With the exception of the head, 
which was slowly roasting upon the coals, there was nothing 
left of the calf except the bones ! 

As an instance of what the half-breed regards as abstemi- 
ousness, a certain missionary once told us that one of his 
people came to him one day, and with great gravity and seri- 
ousness said : " I know that Christianity is true ; that it is 
* Major Butler, " Great Lone Land." 



26o THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the great, the best religion — much better, very much better 
than the pagan, my old religion. Now," said he, "when I 
was a pagan and followed my old ways — the religion of my 
mothers — I could eat eight rabbits for my dinner, and then 
was not satisfied. But since I have become a Christian, and 
follow the new way, six rabbits at a time is plenty for me ; I 
don't want any more ! " 

So well is their tremendous power of digestion, and the 
real iiecessities of their nomadic life, known to the Hudson's 
Bay Company, that the daily ration issued by that corpora- 
tion to its half-breed voyageurs and hunters is ten pounds of 
beef per man, five pounds per woman, and three pounds pei 
child, regardless of age ! Beef is so much stronger food 
than buffalo-meat that ten pounds of the former would be 
equivalent to fifteen pounds of the latter, and so on in pro- 
portion. Beef is, of course, only used near the settlements 
and is not regarded as equal in any respect to wild meat. 
The diet of the company's servants depends much, however, 
upon the district in which they serve, although the amount 
in any locality is equally enormous. In the plain or Sas- 
katchewan district the ration is almost wholly of buffalo-meat, 
either fresh or in pemmican. In all the other districts, while 
pemmican is issued when procurable, the regular ration is the 
game supplied by the neighborhood. On the south shores 
of Hudson's Bay, where wild-fowl abound, each man re- 
ceives for his day's food one wild-goose ; in the lake district 
or English River, three large whitefish; in the Arctic region, 
two fish and five pounds of reindeer-meat ; on the Pacific 



A WINTER CAMP. 261 

coast, eight rabbits or one salmon ; in the Athabasca dis- 
trict, eight pounds of moose-meat. All this in periods of 
plenty. 

When the meal gets low in the bin, and the oil in the 
cruse fails, the half-breed goes hungry with an indifference 
to the existence of gastric juices that is affecting to behold. 
But no amount of starvation has the effect of making him re- 
serve from present plenty for future scarcity. The idea of 
saving for the inevitable rainy morrow is entirely foreign to 
his nature. It is useless to tell the plain-hunters that the 
winter is long, and that the buffalo might move out of range, 
and want stare them in the face ; they seem to regard starva- 
tion as an ordinary event to be calculated upon certainly, 
and that so long as any food is to be obtained it is to be 
eaten at all times ; when that is gone — well, then the only 
thing is to do without. This is the universal half-breed logic : 
let us eat, drink and be merry, lest to-morrow we cannot ; 
and it is in perfect keeping with the simplicity and cunning, 
faith, fun, and selfishness which are mingled in the half- 
breed's mental composition. 

As a consequence of so general a commingling of the 
sexes in the many huts of the winter camp, it occurs that 
when the young men are not engaged in dancing or feasting 
they are usually making love; and as there is a large number 
of young women and girls in every camp, each family rejoic- 
ing in the possession of several, the wooings of the dusky Pyr- 
amuses and tawny Thisbes is going on continually, and 
without exciting any particular comment. Many of the 



262 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

women are very handsome, but run the gamut of color from 
a clear white of the Caucasian type to the deep and dirty cop- 
per-color of the Indian. They receive the attention of their 
lovers, we are bound to say, with a degree of propriety and 
maiden coyness which reflects much honor upon their native 
modesty, situated as they are. As no opportunity is offered 
for retirement or privacy, the love-making is carried on in 
the presence of all the other occupants of the room, and very 
frequently each corner of the single apartment will have its 
couple whispering soft nothings, to be heard, of course, by all 
the rest. To civilized young persons, no doubt, a courtship 
pursued under these depressing circumstances would be try- 
ing to the utmost ; but Frangois and Philomel are not in the 
least embarrassed by having their conversation overheard, 
and they caress each other, and call pet names, as if there 
were no ears within a mile of them. 

Francois or Gabriel generally comes early in the evening, 
■and having been duly embraced and handshaken by the en- 
tire family, is at once invited to dine. The fact of it being 
past the dinner hour makes no difference, as the invitation is 
exteJided in accordance with hospitable custom. The father 
of Philomel takes his seat at table with his guest, being in 
duty bound to eat with every one he entertains, and the fe- 
male members of the family wait upon them. Both proceed 
to make themselves omnipresent as far as possible. Their 
fingers are everywhere, and ignoring such confining influ- 
ences as knives and forks, they soon attain an enviable state 
of greasiness. During the progress of the meal the host is 



A WINTER CAM P. 263 

untiring in his efforts to overload his guest with buffalo-hump 
and tea. He informs him that he eats no more than a spar- 
row ; that it is a constant mystery to him how he is able to 
preserve life at all on so small a quantity of food ; that he 
confidently expects him to become a saint in glory ere long, 
but intends doing his best not to let him go up from his roof 
by reason of starvation ; that Philomel has an appetite some- 
thing like his own, and that it has been a cause of anxiety to 
him all her life long. While thus commiserating his guest's 
poor appetite, man pere is rapidly and bountifully helping 
himself, and makes amends for what he is pleased to call his 
visitor's abstemiousness. When both have eaten enough to 
cause immediate surfeit, and the father-in-law in prospect is 
blue in the face, a smoke is suggested. 

While the smoking is going on Philomel deftly sweeps 
from the table the remnants of the repast, and retires to a 
corner of the apartment by herself. Here, when the fumiga- 
tion is over, the enamored Gabriel joins her, and his doing so 
is a signal for the rest of the family to become suddenly un- 
conscious of their presence. This oblivion does duty on 
such occasions for a separate apartment. Whatever incidents 
of a tender nature occur are supposed to be invisible to any 
person save the principals. Everybody acts on this theory. 
Even the respected but dissipated host produces his black 
bottle with the hoarded store of rum, and drinks it himself 
under the assumed belief that his young guest is in the next 
room. The small brothers-in-law that are to be, indulge in 
a rather vindictive skirmish over a moccasin-game in utter 



264 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

ignorance of any bodily presence; and the seven sisters of 
Philomel criticise the cut of her lover's garments, and the 
classic but retiring beauty of his countenance with a charming 
unconsciousness of his close proximity. Philomel, plastic 
and pliable Philomel, is in no manner abashed at being wooed 
in the presence of her relatives, and even becomes herself the 
wooer on discovering that Gabriel is in a certain degree 
timid. She intimates by caresses of the hand that they are 
alone, and converses in a tone of voice sufficiently loud to 
dispel the idea that they can be overheard. If Gabriel re- 
covers courage in some measure, he looks upon Philomel 
admiringly, as he would upon any other thing of beauty, and 
it is not long before she becomes conscious of the observa- 
tion. Then it is a study to watch the airs assumed by this 
half-breed belle. She is as well versed in the masonry of her 
sex as if born with a white skin and reared in Madison 
Square. There is no difference in her mode of action ; the 
only difference is in the effect. 

Gabriel, unless he is an adept at the business, cannot en- 
tirely rid himself of the depressing effect of twelve pairs of 
eyes taking in his glances. He is, in consequence, not so 
susceptible to her wiles as he would be if otherwise situated. 
At first he limits his love-making to affectionate looks, 
caresses, and the simpler forms of speech which convey to 
her the knowledge that she is the light of his eyes. As the 
evening advances, and his embarrassment wears off, he ven- 
tures upon remarks of a more intensely passionate nature, 
indicative of his love and desire to be first in her affections. 



» A WINTER CAMP. 265 

The mixed language spoken by the lovers affords an unlim- 
ited supply of diminutives ; and Gabriel may call his sweet- 
heart by the names of almost all the animal creation, and yet 
use but legitimate pet names. In the Cree tongue he may 
address her as his musk-ox, or, if he desires to become more 
tender, may call her his musk-rat with equal propriety. By a 
blending of two Indian tongues she becomes a beautiful 
wolverine, and a standard but commonplace love-name is 
*' my little pig." 

The half-breed's pet names have all been taken from 
those of animals that seem to be especially innocent or beau- 
tiful in his eyes ; and the fact that different persons have dif- 
ferent standards of beauty and innocence has led to the 
invention of an almost unlimited vocabulary of diminutives. 
When the lady-love is inclined to be stout, the names of the 
larger animals are chosen, and rather liked by her upon 
whom they are conferred. We remember that one woman 
was affectionately called the Megatherium, a name that clung 
to her for months, as being peculiarly the representative of 
ideal love. 

After the lovers have passed a considerable time in this 
manner alone, as it were, the sisters and other female rela- 
tives of Philomel evince an inclination to take part in the 
wooing. They participate in the conversation by almost 
imperceptible degrees ; then gather by slow approaches into 
the corner set apart for the courting ; and at last become a 
radiant but tawny group, sparkling and scintillating in the 

humor of the heathen tongues. They resolve themselves 
12 



266 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

into a species of whippers-in ; condole with each other upon 
the prospective loss of their dear sister; congratulate Gabriel 
upon having gained the affections of so irreproachable a 
maiden as Philomel, and feel assured that their lives will be 
one of unalloyed happiness. In this way the half-breed 
lover is wafted into matrimony with a facility and dispatch 
not easily excelled by her fairer sisters of paved avenues. 

After a short season of courtship, the anticipated mother- 
in-law contributes to the certainty of the matrimonial ven- 
ture by exhibiting, with commendable pride, the household 
goods which are to accompany Philomel upon her departure 
from the domestic fold. A feather bed, certain articles of 
embroidered clothing, highly decorated moccasins, and sun- 
dry pieces of earthenware and tin constitute the whole. To 
this the host adds a trade-musket, which, he says, has been 
used by him in the chase, and has been destined from the 
period of earliest infancy as a present to the fortunate win- 
ner of Philomel. He takes occasion, at the same time, to 
produce the black bottle, and ask the pleasure of drinking 
the health of his prospective sun-in-law, which he does in a 
demonstratively paternal way affecting to behold. 

If Gabriel seems to be overcome by the beneficence of 
the family, and the threatening prospects of immediate matri- 
mony, and relapses into quietude and sombre thought, his 
host insists that he must be suffering from hunger again, and 
expresses his wonder that he has been able to keep up so 
long. As the half-breed idea of hospitality consists in oft 
repeated food and drink, Gabriel knows that it is useless as 



A WINTER CAMP. 



26^ 



well as impolitic to refuse, and is accordingly made the re- 
cipient of more buffalo-hump and tea, which leaves him in a 
surfeited and numbed condition, and quite willing to be 
married out of hand. From this time on Gabriel is, so 
to speak, an engaged man. As the evenings return, he re- 
pairs to the corner of the room where the placid Philomel 
awaits him, and again the imaginary walls are reared up, ren- 
dering it an apartment of itself. Here he may hurl amatory 
adjectives and noun substantives at her brow to his heart's 
content; for there comes a day in the near future when 
they must repair to the priest, and when Philomel will re- 
move the gaudy handkerchief from her head, and wear it 
crossed meekly upon her breast in token of her wifehood. 

Against this marriage day Gabriel accumulates rich store 
of buffalo-meat and Jamaica rum, and, if possible, a fine-cloth 
capote of cerulean hue, and ornamental leggins of bewilder- 
ing beadvvork ; for the unmarried half-breed 
in the consummation of his toilet first pays 
attention to his legs. His cap may be old, 
his capote out at the elbows, but his leggins 
must be without spot or blemish. A leg- 
gin of dark-blue cloth, extending to the 
knee, tied at the top with a gaudy garter of 
worsted-work, and having a broad stripe of 
heavy bead or silk-work running down the outer seam, is his 
insignia of respectability. 

Gabriel's marriage generally takes place in the winter, 
when the cares of existence are lightened by reason of ad- 




HALF-EREED LEGGINS. 



268 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

vances made him upon the labor of the ensuing season, or a 
generous supply of provisions in hand from the late fall hunt. 
On the appointed day he makes a present of a few ponies, or 
a quantity of provisions, to his prospective father-in-law, and, 
accompanied by the paternal blessing and a numerous crowd 
of friends, repairs with Philomel to the chapel, where the 
offices of some spiritual father make the twain one flesh. 
The ceremony over, all persons concerned repair to the resi- 
dence of Baptiste, or Pascal, or Antoine, who has agreed for 
-a consideration to permit the wedding festivities to be held 
in his house. Everybody is free to attend the feasting and 
dancing which follow. When the festivities are over the 
happy couple begin life upon a capital stock of a pony or 
two, a few kettles, a pair of blankets, a trading-gun, and are 
happy. 

Attached to every winter camp, and forming part and 
parcel of it, is a considerable following of Indian hangers-on. 
These picturesque vagabonds constitute the rags and rem- 
nants of the camp dress, as it were, and vary the jollity and 
dissipation of their half-breed brethren by their more grave 
and sombre demeanor. Most "grave and reverend seig- 
niors " are they, who stalk through the squalid huts and 
tepees of the encampment like green and yellow apparitions, 
or melancholy gods of bile from a dyspeptic's inferno. 

Occasionally they join themselves permanently to the 
camp, and their dusky and aquiline features at length come 
to assume a certain degree of individuality ; but for the 
most part they are sunny-day friends, only seeking the dissi- 



A IVINTER CAMP. 269 

pations of the hunting-camps when the stages are well loaded 
with hump, and brisket and ribs, and disappearing when want 
and scarcity usurp the place of plenty. For these children of 
the forest and plain well know that the winter camp is the 
most perfect socialist and communistic community in the 
world. Its members hold every article of food in common. 
A half-breed is starving, and the rest of the camp want food. 
He kills a buffalo, and to the last bit the coveted food is 
shared by all. There is but a thin rabbit, a piece of dried 
fish, or an old bit of raw-hide in the hut, and the red or 
white stranger comes and is hungry ; he gets his share, 
and is first served and best attended. If a child starves in 
the camp, one may know that in every hut, famine reigns, 
and gaunt hunger dwells in every stomach. When the time 
comes, the Indian shares his last morsel with the rest ; but so 
long as the meat of his half-breed brethren lasts, he is con- 
tent to remain in a complete state of destitution as regards 
food of his own. In other words, he finds it easier to hunt 
buffalo on the half-breed's stages than on the bleak plains in 
mid-winter. 

Coming in from the wrack and tempest, and finding the 
camp stages well stocked with food, the Indian begins to 
starve immediately. At all hours of the day and night the 
men, the squaws and the children, form doleful processions to 
the huts for food. An Indian never knocks at the door; he 
simply lifts the latch, enters edgeways, shakes hands all 
round, then seats himself, without a word, upon the floor. 
One may be at breakfast, at dinner or in bed, it doesn't mat- 



270 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

ter — he will wait. With the pangs of hunger gnawing at his 
stomach, and viewing, no doubt with longing eyes, the food 
around, he yet, according to Indian etiquette, refrains from 
clamoring at once for food, but sits and smokes for a long 
time without making the slightest allusion to his suffering 
condition. When, in due course, his host offers him some- 
thing to eat, he mentions the wants of himself and family, 
that he has not eaten for so many hours, and so fortli^ He 
seems exceedingly grateful for the assistance, and promises 
to return in a day or two and repay the obligation — a prom- 
ise which he never fulfills. 

If there is any liquor about the camp, the Indian is al- 
ways the first to find it and the last to leave it. He divines 
its presence instinctively. He brings his marten-skins, his 
fish, or whatever he may happen to have, and insists upon 
having his share ; and it does not answer to dilute it too much 
for his use. It must be strong enough to be inflammable, for 
he always tests it by pouring a few drops in the fire. If it 
possesses the one property from which he has given it the 
name of fire-water, he is satisfied, whatever its flavor or other 
qualities may be. A very little suffices to upset him, and 
when intoxicated he is the most irrepressible being a quiet 
man can possibly have about him. He chuckles and hugs 
his tin pot, exclaiming : " Tarpoy ! tarpoy ! " (It is true ! it 
is true !) scarcely able to believe the delightful fact. When 
he begins to sober up, he will sell the shirt off his back for 
another drain of the beloved poison. Failing to get it, he 
pours hot water into the cup, in which the rum has been, and 



A WINTER CAilP. 2/1 

drinks it to obtain the slight flavor which still clings to it; 
often filling and emptying it half a dozen times before being 
fully satisfied that the scent of the distilled molasses has long 
ago left it. 

The Indian's habitation is seldom in the camp itself. 
He generally places his lodge of skins or bark a little way off 
in the forest, and keeps a narrow path beaten to the open 
space. His dwelling, inside or out, always presents the same 
spectacle : battered-looking dogs of all ages surround the 
lodge ; in the low branches of the trees, or upon a stage, 
meat, snowshoes, dog sledges, etc., lie safe from canine rav- 
age. Inside, from seven to fifteen persons hover over the 
fire burning in the centre. - Meat, cut into thin slices, hangs 
drying in the upper smoke ; the inevitable puppy dogs play 
with sticks; the fat, greasy children pinch the puppy dogs, 
drink on all fours out of a black kettle, or saw off mouthfuls 
of meat between fingers and lips; the squaws, old and young, 
engage in cooking, or in nursing with a nonchalance which 
appals the modest stranger. Such is the lodge of the Indian 
hanger-on; sometimes a pleasant place enough to while 
away an hour in study of the aboriginal character, for the 
appropriate gestures and expressive pantomime with which 
an Indian illustrates his speech renders it easy to under- 
stand. One learns without much difficulty to interpret the 
long hunting stories with which they while away the evenings 
in camp. The scenes described are nearly all acted ; the 
motions of the game, the stealthy approach of the hunter, 
the taking aim, the shot, the cry of the animal, or the noise 



272 THE CUE A T FUR LAND. 

of its dashing away, and the pursuit, are all given as the tale 
goes on. 

Associating with the aborigines entirely, one rapidly 
picks up their language, and in a little time can speak it 
fluently if not grammatically. Nothing is easier than to get a 
decent smattering of the Indian languages, although the 
construction of most of them is extremely intricate. The 
names of many articles is the explanation of their use or 
properties, the word being a combination of a participle and 
a noun, the latter meaning generally "a thing." Thus a 
cup is called a drinking-thing, a gun a shooting-thing, etc. 
Especially does this apply to articles introduced by the whites, 
and not pertaining strictly to savage life. The names of 
such articles invariably express their use, and very frequently 
the motions made in using them. This peculiarity also ap- 
pears in their proper names, which are generally descriptive 
of some personal singularity. But the sign language used by 
the Indian is, after all, the greatest aid to conversation, and 
is very complete. Their pantomimical power seems to be 
perfect. There are no two tribes of Indians that use exactly 
the same oral language, but all are conversant with the 
same pantomimic code. 

The costume of the Indian, when in the privacy of his 
own home, is somewhat limited in its nature. Like other 
tlirifty persons, he is given to wearing his old clothes. That 
feathered vertebra, which is seen meandering down the ex- 
ceedingly straight back of the Indian in the picture-books, is 
only used upon state occasions. Ordinarily he wears leg- 



A WINTER CAMP. 



273 



gins reaching a certain way up his legs, and a shirt extend- 
ing a certain way down his trunk ; taken together, and they 
are not unlike that garment so pleaded for by reformers in 
female dress. Sew the bot- 
tom of the shirt to the top 
of the leggins, and you have 
what? The chemiloon. Eu- 
reka ! Ages ago the chemi- 
loon dawned upon the mind 
of the untutored Indian; 
but inventions are of slow 
growth. It took three hun- 
dred years to develop the 
sofa from the three-legged 




INDIAN COSTUME. 



stool : so with the garment 
of the red-man ; and it is 
still in process of evolution. The moccasin-top, protecting the 
ankle, was perhaps the Bathybius from which the aboriginal 
chemiloon was evolved. Gradually it crept up the leg and 
assumed the shape of the leggin. Down to meet it from 
the neck, evolved from a wampum collar, came the shirt, 
slowly extending downward until it now almost meets the 
leggin. What will be the wild joy in the red-man's tent, 
when, years hence, the ends of the two garments shall meet, 
and the perfect chemiloon be formed ! Until then he enters 
a caveat against any infringement of his patent ; for the in- 
vention belongs to the Indian. 

By some seeming incongruity the winter camp is nearly 
1 o -r. 



274 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

always called a Mission — an appellation warranted, perhaps, 
by the invariable presence there of a priest, either tempo- 
rarily or permanently. This personage is the spiritual guide, 
philosopher and friend, of a very disreputable flock, and his 
duties, if conscientiously performed, are of a very arduous 
nature. And it is seldom that they are not conscientiously 
performed; for no man can labor more disinterestedly for 
the good of his fellow than the missionary priest. It is a 
startling contrast to find in these rude camps men of refined 
culture, and the highest mental excellence, devoting them- 
selves to the task of civilizing the denizens of the forest and 
plain — sacrificing all the comforts and advantages of their bet- 
ter lives to the advancement of a barbarian brother, whose final 
elevation to the ranks of civilized men they can never hope to 
see. And yet they are to be found everywhere throughout the 
lone places of the North, dwelling in the midst of wild and 
savage peoples, whom they attend with a strange and pater- 
nal devotion. On the banks of lonely lakes they minister to 
the wants and needs of the wild men who repair thither peri- 
odically to fish ; in the huge camps of our barbarian brethren 
on the limitless plains ; at the isolated trading-posts scattered 
over the Fur Land ; and, seeking them in their lonely huts 
or squalid lodges, one ever finds the same simple surround- 
ings, the same evidences of a faith that seems more than 
human. 

Prominent among the rude landmarks of the winter camp 
is the store of the free-trader. Of more pretentious exterior, 
and of larger proportions than the dwellings of the hunters, 



A WINTER CAMP. 275 

it is easily discerned at a glance. As a rule, its owner is 
developed from the ordinary plain-hunter. Antoine, or Pas- 
cal, or Baptiste, having followed the chase for years, and 
proving a more successful hunter than his fellows, accumu- 
lates a fair supply of robes and ponies. On some springtime 
visit to the settlements, the fur-trader with whom he has 
dealt for years, noticing his thrift and success, offers to outfit 
him with goods on condition of receiving the first offer of the 
furs for which they are exchanged. Pascal is delighted with 
the prospect of becoming a free-trader, and pays down a small 
sum in cash and furs, and receives a considerable amount 
of ammunition and finery on credit. With this he starts for the 
plains, and at some eligible point near a water-course, and in 
advantageous proximity to both buffalo grounds and forest, 
in order to attract a trade in both classes of fur, locates his 
trading-store. Around this nucleus gather the nomadic 
plain-hunters and Indians, and lastly the priest; for Pascal 
may be said to be the founder of the winter camp. The size 
of his store is regulated by the amount of his stock, but likely 
in any event to be the most pretentious in the camp. It may 
have two apartments, but more likely one. The goods are 
kept in boxes and bales, and produced only as required. 
Pascal has yet to learn the art of attracting custom by the 
display of his wares. In truth, there is but little need for 
him to do so; for, if the improvident Indian or half-breed 
should by some fortuitous circumstance become possessed 
of a surplus of salable provision or fur, its ownership be- 
comes a consuming flame to him until disposed of. So 



276 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

Pascal's stock of merchandise decreases rapidly as the winter 
advances, and his store of robes and furs increases in propor- 
tion. Most of the latter are purchased cheaply, and for an 
equivalent of gilt and color, as it were ; for the tastes of his 
customers are of a very decided sort, like those of other 
mixed races. 

If Pascal trades merchandise alone, his life flows unevent- 
fully along, and he may enjoy counting his store of peltries 
as they increase day by day. He is looked up to by his fel- 
lows as a kind of Delphic oracle upon all disputed points, on 
account of his superior wealth and standing. His vanity is 
flattered by such adulation, and he assumes an air of vast 
importance as the head man of the camp. He becomes the 
arbiter in all petty disputes, the umpire at horse-races, and 
general referee in knotty and vexatious games oi grand-major., 
poker, and the moccasin-game. His authority is second to 
none save the priest, who, as the spiritual head of the camp, 
assumes the first place by right of eminent fitness and pro- 
priety. If Pascal trades liquor, however, his lines are not 
cast in pleasant places, notwithstanding the heavy profits 
upon the barter. Every day turmoil reigns in the camp, and 
sounds of revelry fill the midnight air. His otherwise quiet 
store becomes the rendezvous of a cursing, clamoring, gestic- 
ulating assemblage of men. There the betting and drinking 
of the afternoon are succeeded by the deeper drinking and 
gambling of the evening; and the sound of shuffling cards, 
the clinking of the buttons and bullets of the moccasin-game, 
and the exclamations of triumph and despair of winner and 



A WINTER CAMP, 2'J'J 

loser are heard at all times. Rum flows freely ; for the 
plain-hunter carries to the trading-store every peltry he can 
obtain. Under these circumstances the free-trader becomes 
a curse to his brethren, and his store a plague-spot upon the 
plains. 

Toward the middle of April Pascal begins to pack up his 
furs, collect his outstanding debts, and make preparations for 
a return to the settlements with the proceeds of the year's 
trade. His ponies are brought in from the prairie where 
they have wintered out; the fractured wooden carts are 
bound up with raw-hide lines ; the broken-spirited ponies 
coaxed into a semblance of life and vigor ; the dusky progeny 
packed in with bales and blankets, the hut locked up, and he 
sets forth for the lonely oasis of civilization nearer the bor- 
der. On the main prairie trails he joins the trains of other 
traders, who have left their winter stations at the same time. 
Constantly augmented by new additions, and following each 
other in single file, the long line seems at length intermina- 
ble ; and by the time the border settlements are reached, 
often varies from two to three miles in length. Their long 
winding columns sparkle with life and gayety ; cart-tilts of 
every hue flash brightly in the sun ; hosts of wolfish dogs 
run in and out among the vehicles, and troops of loose horses 
gallop alongside. The smartly-dressed men ride their showi- 
est steeds, their wives and daughters traveling in the carts, 
enthroned on packs of fur. The traders wear their pictur- 
esque summer dress — brass-buttoned dark-blue capotes, with 
moleskin or corduroy trousers and calico shirts. Wide-awake 



278 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

hats, or cloth caps with peaks, are the favorite head-covering. 
Gayly embroidered saddle-cloths and variegated sashes are pre- 
ferred to those of less showy appearance ; red, white and blue 
beading on black ground is common. 

Reaching the settlements, the free-trader ascertains 
the current price of peltries, then repairs to his outfitter 
and offers him his stock at the highest market rates. To 
protect himself, the merchant generally accepts ; for, if 
Pascal sells elsewhere, and obtains the money for his peltries, 
the chances are that he forgets his obligation, and returns to 
the plains without liquidating his debt. Having sold his furs, 
however, the half-breed trader next proceeds to clothe himself 
and his family in all the gaudy finery that money can pur- 
chase, and then, procuring an ample supply of rum, gives a 
party to his friends. In this manner, and by the dissipations 
induced by a prolonged sojourn in the settlements, he 
manages to squander the greater portion of the season's earn- 
ings, and finds himself, when ready to return to the plains, as 
poor as he was the year before. Then he returns to the 
trader, who has anticipated just such a consummation of 
things, and obtaining credit for a new outfit, finally departs. 

But it is a month or more before the last half-breed trader 
in tasseled cap, sky-blue capote, brilliant sash and corduroy 
trousers, has had his last dram in the border grog-shops, and 
carries his fevered brow off toward the setting sun ; a month 
before the last cart-train, with its following of mongrel dogs, 
unkempt ponies, lowing kine and tawny human beings, has 
disappeared beyond the horizon. Very brilliant and pictur- 



A WINTER CAMP. 2fg 

esque they were while they stayed about the settlements. Their 

brown and smoke-discolored leather tents dotted the prairie 

for weeks ; there was always a scurrying of horses and a 

barking of dogs in the neighborhood ; a continual feasting 

and drinking ; a reckless riding to and fro, and the jargon of 

voices vociferating and shouting in half-a-dozen languages. 

Pierre and Antoine ran a mad race through the streets of the 

town ; dusky Darby and tawny Joan made love upon the 

open plain in anything but the conventional manner ; Gabriel 

drank deep of the white man's fire-water, and fell prone in the 

gutter, but, raised to his pony's back, went off at a wild gallop, 

to the astonishment of every one, as if he were part and 

parcel of that unkempt animal; Philomel, appareled in scarlet 

cloth and bewildering beadwork, like the little savage peri 

that she was, danced down the still hours in the short grass of 

the prairie, to the music of some long-haired and moccasined 

Paganini. Dark but comely was Philomel ; her full rounded 

figure, black hair, bewitching eyes and little affectations, were 

enough to soften the soul of an anchorite. Like Mr. Locker's 

heroine, she was — 

" An angel in a frock, 
With a fascinating cock 
To her nose." 

Her little moccasined feet will accompany the quick thud 
of hunter heel, as Louison or Baptiste dance unceasingly 
upon the half-hewn floor of some winter hut, in the glow of 
firelight through parchment windows, and to the sound of 
fiddle scraped by rough hunter hand. 



28o THE ORE A T FUR LAND. 

It occasionally occurs that a pure Indian turns trader, and 
when he does so he is likely to be a more provident and suc- 
cessful trader than his half-breed brother. I recollect one 
Pegowis, a Cree, who amassed considerable wealth in this 
way. He was a saturnine old red man, small of stature and 
very dark even for an Indian. Of a quiet, grave and reticent 
nature, yet shrewd, cunning and avaricious, he would have 
made, had he been white and had proper advantages, a most 
pronounced type of the successful gambler. He had every 
trait of that well-known steamboat character, and loved the 
hazard of a die to an equal degree. In fact, he was a noto- 
rious gambler, and as notoriously a successful one. He took 
the chances on almost everything. He would sit down with 
an untutored Indian fresh from the primeval wilderness, and 
with the fascinations of the moccasin game lure him on to 
certain poverty. He would inveigle a card-loving half-breed 
into a game of grand major, and strip him of his last earthly 
possession. He would race his horses against any animal 
that ran on four legs, and invariably came off the winner. 
Of his propensity for this latter amusement I recall an amus- 
ing instance. 

Pegowis, on some of his visits to the military posts along 
the Missouri, had picked up a bay horse of more than or- 
dinary speed and endurance. He christened him '' The arrow 
that flies out of the big gun," which is short for cannon ball ; 
a name derived from the fact of the horse having a large lump 
on his fore knee, resembling one of those projectiles. In ad- 
dition to this defect, the joint of the same limb, from the knee 
down, went off at an angle of forty-five degrees from the re- 



A WINTER CAMP. 28 1 

mainder of the leg, and appeared, in fact, to bear no sort of 
relevance to the animal at all. He limped very perceptibly, 
and altogether ambled along in that fashion described by the 
nautical phrase " a rolling gait." Yet the wily Pegowis cared 
for the animal as for the apple of his eye, and taking him 
home reduced the whole prairie country to insolvency with 
him during the winter. In the spring he brought Cannon- 
ball into the settlement, harnessed to a very shaky old cart, 
and drawing a load of furs, and employed a wideawake half- 
breed, who spoke English fluently, as a sort of " roper-in " to 
effect a horse-race. Driving the disreputable looking beast 
up before the door of a trading-shop, the half-breed patted 
and caressed the animal, and bade his helper take every care 
of him ; for, remarked Pegowis's emissary, in the hearing of 
his victims, " That 'ere horse is a racer." A young Canadian, 
with a fancy for horse flesh, thinking he had an easy victim, 
immediately offered to race and was as promptly accepted by 
the half-breed. The wager was raised higher and higher, 
until it reached the formidable sum of one hundred pounds 
sterling, which the venerable Pegowis, who now oppor- 
tunely appeared upon the scene, at once drew forth from 
the recesses of his red blanket. Cannon-ball was unhar- 
nessed from the cart, the ground measured off, and, mount- 
ed by a young Cree, the old horse came in an easy win- 
ner, the saturnine Pegowis pocketing the money without 
a smile to disturb the placidity of his muddy counte- 
nance. This veteran trader still continues the business, 
and unless overtaken by reverses, or estopped by the bullet 



282 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

of some cheated red brother, will probably become a very 
rich man. 

From time to time, as the winter camp runs short of pro- 
visions, expeditions are made to the buffalo grounds to obtain 
a fresh supply. The herds, which wander far to the south- 
ward in the fall, strange to say, return in the winter and col- 
lect in great numbers in the broken country between the 
two Saskatchewans, finding shelter in the timber, and brows- 
ing upon the willows, or coarse grass, still uncovered by snow. 

The half-breeds generally go to the winter hunts in small 
parlies, and with horse or dog-sledges to haul home the robes. 
The journey thither occupies a week or ten days, as the herds 
are near or far out. Proximity to the buffalo grounds is 
known by the radical change in the aspect of the country. 
Instead of an interminable plain, with an illimitable per- 
spective of wrack and drift, the country becomes undulating, 
with scattered patches of small timber alternating with minia- 
ture meadows and grassy levels. Here the buffalo sepa- 
rate themselves into small bands, and often into twos and 
threes, and find abundant food beneath the light snows. 
But into this sylvan retreat come the hunters with their dog- 
trains. Carefully skirting its border, but not penetrating 
it needlessly to alarm the herds, they select their camping- 
place in the thickest of the timber, and thence make pro- 
longed forays upon their shaggy game. Aside from the mere 
selection of the camping-ground, but little time is lost in ren- 
dering it comfortable ; for on the winter hunt the main 
object is attended to with a singleness of purpose that would 



A WINTER CAMP. 283 

delight the soul of a business martinet. But few fires are 
lighted during the day, for fear of frightening the game ; 
so that the labor of making camp is limited to securing, out 
of reach of the dogs, not only the provisions — of which by 
this time there is likely to be but little left — but snowshoes, 
harness, and everything with any skin or leather about it. 
An Indian sledge-dog will devour almost anything of animal 
origin, and invariably eats his own harness and his master's 
snowshoes, if left within his reach. 

Dividing into parties, the hunters pursue different direc- 
tions, endeavoring, however, whenever practicable, to encircle 
a certain amount of territory, with the object of driving the 
quarry toward a common centre. Again, the small parties 
follow the same plan on a smaller scale, each one surround- 
ing a miniature meadow, or grassy glade ; so that, if the num- 
ber of hunters is large, there are many small circles within 
the limits of the general circumference of the hunt. 

The winter hunt for buffalo in the Fur Land is generally 
made by stalking the animals in the deep snow on snowshoes. 
To hunt the herds on horseback, as in summer, would be an 
impossibility ; the snow hides the murderous badger-holes 
that cover the prairie surface, and to gallop weak horses on 
such ground would be certain disaster. By this method of 
hunting the stalker endeavors to approach within gunshot of 
his quarry by stealthily creeping upon them, taking advantage 
of every snow-drift, bush, or depression in the prairie, which 
will screen his person from view. And it is a more difficult 
feat to approach a band of buffalo than it would appear on 



284 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

first thought. When feeding the herd is more or less scat- 
tered, but at sight of the hunter it rounds and closes into a 
tolerably compact circular mass. If the stalker atternpts an 
open advance on foot — concealment being impossible from 
the nature of the ground — the buffalo always keep sheering 
off as soon as he gets within two hundred yards of the near- 
est. If he follows, they merely repeat the movement, and 
always manage to preserve the same distance. Although 
there is not the slightest danger in approaching a herd, it re- 
quires, in a novice, an extraordinary amount of nerve. When 
he gets within three hundred yards, the bulls on that side, with 
head erect, tail cocked in the air, nostrils expanded, and eyes 
that seem to flash fire, walk uneasily to and fro, menacing 
the intruder by pawing the earth and tossing their huge heads. 
The hunter still approaching, some bull will face him, lower 
his head, and start on a most furious charge. But alas for 
brute courage ! When he has gone thirty yards he thinks 
better of it, stops, stares an instant, and then trots back to 
the herd. Another and another will try the same strategy, 
with the same result, and if, in spite of these ferocious 
demonstrations, the hunter still continues to advance, the 
whole herd will incontinently take to its heels. 

By far the best method of stalking a herd in the snow is 
to cover oneself with a white blanket, or sheet, in the same 
manner as the Indians use the wolf-skin. In this way the 
animal cannot easily get the hunter's wind, and are prevented 
from distinguishing him amidst the surrounding snow. The 
buffalo being the most stupid and sluggish of Plain animals, 



A WINTER CAMP. 285 

and endowed with the smallest possible amount of instinct, 
the little that he has seems adapted rather for getting him into 
difficulties than out of them. If not alarmed at sight or smell 
of the stalker, he will stand stupidly gazing at his companions 
in their death throes until the whole band is shot down. 

When the hunter is skilled in the stalk, and the buffalo 
are plentiful, the wild character of the sport almost repays 
him for the hardships he endures. With comrades equally 
skillful he surrounds the little meadows into which he has 
stalked his quarry. Well posted, the hunter nearest the herd 
delivers his fire. In the sudden stupid halt and stare of the 
bewildered animals immediately following, he often gets in a 
second and third shot. Then comes the wild dash of the 
frightened herd toward the opening in the park, when the 
remaining hunters instantly appear, pouring in their fire at 
short range, and pretty certain of securing their game. • 

The cutting up follows ; and the rapidity with which a 
skillful hunter completes the operation is little short of mar- 
velous. When time permits, the full process is as follows : 
He begins by skinning the buffalo, then takes off the head, 
and removes the paunch and offal as far as the heart ; next 
he cuts off the legs and shoulders and back. The chest, with 
the neck attached, now remains — a strange-looking object, 
that would scare a respectable larder into fits — and this he 
proceeds to lay beside the other joints, placing there also such 
internal parts as are considered good. Over the whole he 
then draws the skin, and having planted a stick in the ground 
close by, Avith a handkerchief or some such thing fastened to 



286 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

it to keep off the wolves, the operation of cutting up is com- 
plete, and the animal is ready for conveyance to camp when 
the sledges arrive. The half-breed goes through this whole 
process with a large and very heavy knife, like a narrow and 
pointed cleaver, which is also used for cutting wood, and per- 
forming all the offices of a hatchet ; but unwieldy as it is, a 
practiced hand can skin the smallest and most delicate crea- 
tures with it as easily as with a pocket-knife. 

A few days' successful stalking generally supplies a party 
with sufficient meat, and, unless hunting for robes, they are 
not likely to linger long upon the bleak plains for the mere 
sake of sport. The winter stalk is emphatically a "pot-hunt," 
the term "sport" being scarcely pertinent to a chase involv- 
ing so serious discomfort. A cache of the meat is accordingly 
made, from which supplies may be drawn as required. And 
\\\\% cache has to be made in a very substantial manner to resist 
the attacks of wolves, which invariably hang about the camp 
of the hunter. Generally speaking, it is made in the form of 
a pyramid, the ends of the logs being sunk slightly into the 
ground, against which a huge bank of snow is heaped. This, 
when well beaten down, and coated with ice by means of water 
poured over it, holds the timber firmly in position, and is per- 
fectly impregnable to a whole army of wolves, though a wol- 
verine will certainly break it open if he finds it. 

At last comes the departure. The sledges are packed 
with melting rib, fat brisket, and luscious tongues ; the cow- 
ering dogs are again rudely roused from their dream of that 
far-off day, which never comes for them, when the whip shall 



A WINTER CAMP. ' 28/ 

be jDroken and hauling shall be no more. Amid fierce impre- r ^S" 
cation, the cracking of whips, deep-toned yells, and the grating 
of the sledges upon the frozen snow, the camp in the poplar 
thicket is left behind. The few embers of the deserted camp- 
fire glow cheerily for a while, then moulder slowly away. 
The wolves, growing bolder as the day wears on, steal warily 
in, and devour such refuse as the dogs have left. As night 
settles silently down, the snow begins to fall. It conies slowly, 
in a whirling mist of snowflakes that dazzles and confuses the 
eye. The ashes of the camp-fire, mingling with it, take on a 
lighter grey ; the hard casing of the cache receives a fleecy 
covering. Feathery shafts of snow, shaken from the long 
tree-branches, fly like white-winged birds down over what has 
been the camp. But all traces of its use are hidden by the 
spotless mantle flung from above. The coming morning 
reveals only a pyramidal drift of snow among the aspens — 
around, a hopeless, uncharted, trackless sea of white. 

Such is the winter stalk — a hunt that has often formed the 
theme of the traveler's story. And yet it may be doubted if 
there has ever been placed before the reader's vision anything 
like a true account of the overpowering sense of solitude, of 
dreary, endless space, of awful desolation, which at tniies fills 
the hunter's mind, as, peering from some swelling ridge or 
aspen thicket, he sees a lonely herd of buffalo, in long, scattered 
file, trailing across the snow-wrapt, interminable expanse into 
the shadows of the coming night. 

Life to the white stranger temporarily resident in the win- 
ter camp becomes after a season pleasant enough. The study 



288 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

of Indian and half-breed character and customs, the visits of 
his barbarian neighbors, the exciting incidents of his every- 
day life, all conspire to relieve the monotony which would 
otherwise hang over him like a pall. It is true that of life 
other than human there is a meagre supply ; a magpie or 
screaming jay sometimes flaunts its gaudy plumage on the 
meat-stage ; in the early morning a sharp-tailed grouse croaks 
in the fir or spruce-trees ; and at dusk, when every other 
sound is hushed, the owl hoots its lonely cry. Besides human 
companionship, however, the white resident of the winter camp 
has many pleasures of a more aesthetic character. It is pleasant 
at night, when returning from a long jaunt on snowshoes or 
dog-sledge, to reach the crest of the nearest ridge and see, 
lying below one, the straggling camp, the red glow of the fire- 
light gleaming through the parchment windows of the huts, the 
bright sparks flying upward amid the sombre pine-tops, and 
to feel that, however rude it may be, yet there in all that vast 
wilderness is the one place he may call home. Nor is it less 
pleasant when, as the night wears on, the long letter is penned, 
the familiar book read, while the log fire burns brightly and 
the dogs sleep quietly stretched before it. Many a night 
thus spent is spread out in those pictures which memory 
weaves in after life, each pleasure distinct and real, each pri- 
vation blended with softened colors. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE FROST KING. 

'' I ^HE old maps, based upon the discoveries of Cabot and 
-^ Castier, which represented the centre of America as a 
vast inland sea, erred only in the description of the ocean 
which they placed in the central continent. The ocean is 
there ; but it is one of grass and waves of sand, and its shores 
are the crests of mountain ranges and dark pine-forests. The 
eye travels over it to the farthest distance without one effort 
of vision, and reaching there, rests unfatigued by its long 
gaze. No jagged peaks break the monotony of sky-line ; no 
river lays its silvery folds along the middle distance ; no dark 
forests give shade to foreground, or fringe the perspective; no- 
speck of life, no trace of man, nothing but wilderness. Strip- 
ped of its drapery, space stands forth with almost terrible 
distinctness. 

The salt sea does not present a more infinite variety of 
aspect than does this prairie-ocean. In early summer, a vast 
expanse of waving grass and pale pink roses ; in autumn, too 
often a wild sea of raging fire ; in winter a dazzling surface 
of purest snow, heaped into rolling ridges or frost-crested 
waves. The phosphorescent waters of the ^'Egean cannot 

show more gorgeous sunsets ; no solitude of mid-ocean can 
13 



290 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

vie with the lonehness of a night-shadowed prairie. The still- 
ness can be felt, the silence heard. The wail of the prowling 
wolf makes the voice of solitude audible ; the stars look down 
through infinite silence upon a silence almost as intense. This 
ocean has no past ; treeless, desolate, and storm-swept was it 
when the stone of the Sphinx was yet unhewn, and the site of 
Nineveh was a river-meadow, and it is the same to-day. Time 
has been nought to it ; and the races of men have come and 
gone, leaving behind them no trace, no vestige of their pres- 
ence. It is an unending vision of sky and grass, and dim, 
distant, and ever-shifting horizon. " The seasons come and 
go, grass grows and flowers die, the fire leaps with tiger 
bounds along the earth, the snow lies still and quiet over hill 
and lake, the rivers rise and fall, but the rigid features of the 
wilderness rest unchanged. Lonely, silent, and impassive ; 
heedless of man, season, or time, the Aveight of the Infinite 
seems to brood over it." * 

To the unaccustomed voyager upon the great prairies of 
the Fur Land they bear no landmark. As well might he be 
left alone upon an uncharted sea. There are spaces where 
no tree or bush breaks the long monotony of sky-line, and he 
gets "out of sight of land." Standing in the middle of the 
plain, it presents the appearance of an immense sheet slightly 
raised at both ends; for the level prairie has the peculiarity 
of seemingly being elevated in whatever point of the compass 
one may turn, leaving the observer always in the depression. 
So clear is the atmosphere that the natural range of vision is 

'■'■- Major Butler, " Wild North Land." 



THE FROST KING, 29 T 

greatly extended, and distant objects may be clearly and 
easily seen ; which, anywhere else, it would be impossible to 
distinguish or define. It is almost like looking through a 
telescope. As a result, one finds it difficult to ascertain the 
relative distances of objects, and in consequence, to estimate 
their size. One makes the blunder of mistaking a buffalo for 
a crow, or, more frequently, a crow for a buffalo. If anyone 
be inclined to laugh at this, let him stand upon the sea-shore 
with a sailor, and compare their estimate of distance with his, 
and mark the difference. The eye ranges over a sea of short 
waving grass, without a single intervening object to afford the 
accustomed means of estimating relative size and distance. 

Left to himself, the inexperienced traveler finds it impossi- 
ble to pursue a straight course, and invariably begins to de- 
scribe a circle by bearing continually to the left — a weakness 
incomprehensible to the plain-dweller, who looks upon it as 
the most arrant stupidity. Unless he be an expert in the use 
of a compass, the possession of an instrument is likely to 
prove of little avail. If he take the sun for a guide, he will 
find no theory quite so fallacious for an unskilled voyager ; 
for, let him be as careful as he will, he can keep the sun 
in the position he requires, and yet go round in a circle. 
After one becomes accustomed to prairie or ocean-travel, he 
learns almost intuitively to be guided by the sun, and can 
travel by it ; but it cannot be learned by a neophyte in a 
single lesson. 

Alone upon the illimitable plain, passing by, in his igno- 
rance of prairie-craft, those numberless milestones to safety 



292 THE GREAT FUR LAA'D. 

which make to the plain-dweller a great public highway, the 
lonely wanderer begins at length to realize that he is lost. 
It dawns upon him first in a sense of absolute bewilderment 
— a bewilderment so intense as to produce for the moment 
an almost perfect blank in the mind. He is incapable of 
summoning thought sufificient to realize anything — to consider 
hispresent situation, or take measures for future action. It is 
an indefinable state where all is chaotic ; quickly succeeded, 
however, by an all-pervading terror, which chains thought 
and action in a manner nearly akin to death — a vague, shape- 
less terror, imagining all possible horrible things, and paint- 
ing mistily and hazily upon the numbed faculties nameless 
miseries yet to be experienced : a slow death by starvation or 
thirst ; exposure to the devouring elements, or wild beasts ; 
tortures of every imaginable description, always ending in a 
lingering death ; and, above all, never more to look upon 
a human face, never more to share human sympathy — a 
going out in utter darkness, perfectly alone. Then Despair 
joins Terror, adding her tortures ; and lastly comes that 
all-powerful, all-pervading desire for human companionship 
which, blending with the former feelings, unhinges the intel- 
lect and renders the man insane. 

In winter the dangers of the prairie-ocean deepen and 
become manifold. The deep snows obliterate all landmarks ; 
to-day, the depressions are filled up ; the ridges levelled ; 
it is a dead surface of glistening white. To-morrow, the 
shifting winds start the breakers going ; they come at first 
in long even swells, the harbingers of the storm ; they break 



THE FROST KING. 293 

into short chopping waves ; they pile one upon another in 
tumultuous billows that freeze into motionless torpor. The 
face of the snowy sea is never the same ; what is a landmark 
to-day is obliterated to-morrow. The peaceful summer scene 
that seemed only wanting the settler's hut, the yoke of oxen, 
the wagon, to become the paradise of the husbandman, is 
lost in fierce storm and tempest and blinding snowdrift. 

But there come calms upon the prairie-ocean — days when 
an infinite silence broods over the trackless expanse, when the 
Mirage of the Desert plays strange freaks of inverted shore- 
land. It is the moment following the sunrise of such a day. 
A deeper stillness steals over the earth, and in its solemn hush 
colors of wondrous hue rise and spread along the horizon. 
The earth stands inverted in the sky; the capes and promon- 
tories of the prairie-ocean are etched in deeper lines than 
graver ever drew upon the blue above ; the poplar and aspen 
islands which dot the plain, float bottom upwards, anchored by 
great golden threads in a deep sea of emerald and orange and 
blue, mingled and interwoven together. Dwellings twenty and 
thirty miles distant, seem but a few rods away ; the gliding 
dog-sledges, out of sight over the plain, are transferred to the 
sky, and seem steering their sinuous courses through the clear 
ether ; far away, seemingly beyond and above all, one broad 
flash of crimson light, the sun's first gift, reddens upward 
toward the zenith. But every moment brings a change ; the 
day gathers closer to the earth, and wraps its impassive veil 
again over the sunken soul of the wilderness. 

The mirages of the Plains are of wondrous beauty ; every 



294 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

feature of the landscape seems limned with supernatural dis- 
tinctness. We have seen, a moment after sunrise on a win- 
ter's morn, a little hamlet, thirty miles away, defined against 
the sky with a minuteness of detail not excelled by a steel 
engraving. We have seen men at nearly the same distance 
photographed so microscopically as to be able to describe 
their wearing apparel ; have distinguished the gambolings of 
dogs and other animals upon the snow. The ordinary phe- 
nomena of the mirage — the simple drawing of a distant land- 
scape near the spectator — are of almost daily occurrence at 
some seasons of the year. Objects far beyond the range of 
the naked eye seem but a few rods distant; beautiful, waveless, 
nameless lakes glimmer in uncertain shore-line, and in shadow 
of inverted hill-top ; the aspen groves seem standing with 
their trunks half buried in the water. At times, when the 
atmospheric conditions are perfect, the whole landscape 
within the range of vision seems but an optical delusion, a 
phantasmagoria ; everything about one is uncertain, unreal. 
The mirage begins but a few yards distant from one, and 
shifts and merges into new forms, like the changing colors 
of a kaleidoscope. At such times the inexperienced traveler 
is all at sea; he pursues one ignis fatuus but to involve himself 
in another, and becomes hopelessly and irretrievably lost. 

To the plain-dweller, however, all the myriad features of 
the prairie are but so many guideboards pointing out his des- 
tination. He who runs may read. He has the sun by day, 
the moon and the stars by night. The turning of a blade of 
grass points him east and west ; the bark of every tree north 



THE FROST KING. 295 

and south ; the birds of the air forecast the weather for him. 
He sees a twig broken, and it tells the story of a passing 
animal ; an upturned pebble on the beach marks the hour 
when the animal drank. He will distinguish the trail of a 
wagon over the prairie years after it has passed ; the grass, 
he says, never grows the same. There is not a sigh or sough 
of the restless wind that is unintelligible to him. He will 
take a straight course in one direction over the plain, where 
no landmarks can be seen, in days when the sun is not shin- 
ing, nor a breath of air stirring. Yet he is unable to explain 
the power he possesses, and considers it quite a natural 
faculty. The half-breed or Indian never gets lost. If he be 
overtaken by storm upon the plain, his escape becomes 
simply a question of physical endurance. 

But the measureless spaces of the Fur Land have other 
dangers and discomforts than those of uncharted immensity. 
To any one who has not experienced the atmosphere of that 
hyperborean region the intensity of its coldness can scaj'cely 
be described. The sun, being so far southward, creates but 
little heat, and the major part of the time is hidden behind 
sombre and leaden clouds. Before you, in every direction, 
the eye meets an unbroken waste of snow. Far away, per- 
haps, as the eye can reach, a faint line of scattered tree-tops 
may barely be distinguished, appearing no higher than fern- 
bushes, marking the course of some prairie-stream crossing 
your path, or running parallel with it — not a thing of life 
or motion within the range of vision between the earth and 
sky, save the conveyance near you. The vastness and mag- 



296 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

nitude of the scene are overpowering. The immensity of 
the dead level is overwhelming. You are an atom in the 
gigantic panorama of frozen Nature about you. 

Coming in from the rarefied atmosphere generated by 
sixty-seven degrees of frost, an extended and sentient fore- 
finger, pointing in the direction of one's nose, instantly in- 
forms him of the frozen condition of that member. Then 
he recalls the fact that, fifteen minutes before, a slight prick- 
ing sensation was experienced in the end of the nose — 
momentary, and in the hurry of the instant scarcely noticed. 
It was at that particular moment that it had frozen. Had he 
looked out, or rather down, he would have seen the ghostly 
spectacle ; for firmer, colder, whiter, and harder than hard 
hearts, stony eyes, marble foreheads, or any other silicious 
similitude, stands forth prominently a frozen nose. 

Some theorist might make a study of frozen noses which 
would be interesting. Inference might be connected with 
infecence in infinite duration. One might read an essay 
from it on the eternal fitness of things, and history viewed by 
the light of frozen noses might reveal new secrets. For 
example, the inability of the Roman nose to stand the rigors 
of an Arctic winter limits the boundaries of the Roman 
empire ; the Esquimaux nose is admirably fitted by nature, 
on account of its limited extent, for the climate in which 
it breathes, hence its assignment to hyperborean latitudes. 
This, however, is by the way. 

One's nose was frozen, say, in traversing at a rapid walk 
a distance of not more than one hundred yards; for it is 



THE FROST KING. 29/ 

a "poudre" day. Sixty-seven degrees of frost, unaccom- 
panied by wind, is endurable if you are taking vigorous 
exercise, and are warmly dressed; but let the faintest possi- 
ble wind arise — a gentle zephyr, a thing which just turns the 
smoke above the lodge-poles, or twists the feather detached 
from the wing of a passing bird — then look out, for the 
chances are that every person met will extend that forefinger 
to mark some frozen spot on your reddish-blue countenance. 
This, however, is the extent of the courtesy; they do not 
follow out the Russian plan of rubbing out the plague-spot 
with a handful of snow, probably out of deference to the 
limited amount of attrition most noses stand without peeling. 
A poudre day, with the temperature in the thirties below, 
is a thing to be spoken of in a whisper. Not a soul leaves 
the fireside who can avoid it ; to wander away from well- 
known landmarks is to run the risk of never returning. 
Every winter half a score of men walk off into the whirling 
particles of snow and drift, and the morning sun finds a 
calm and peaceful face turned up to the sky, with its life 
frozen out, and its form hard and unimpressible, as if carved 
from granite. The early morning of such a day may be clear 
and still ; but upon close inspection the atmosphere will 
be found filled with crystal, scintillating, minute, almost im- 
perceptible particles of snow, drifting on wings of air, impal- 
pable and fleeting. Soon after daybreak the wind begins 
to rise. Off to the north rolls a little eddy of snow, a mere 
puff, not larger than one's hand. Another follows ; minia- 
ture coils circle over the smooth surface of the snow, and 

sink back imperceptibly to the level again. Drifts of larger 
13* 



298 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

proportions roll over the expanse, until the atmosphere 
becomes thick with the frozen particles. All landmarks are 
lost, and the range of vision is limited to a few feet. The 
wind howls like a raging beast, and the merciless cold con- 
geals the very heart's blood. It is the sirocco of the North ! 
On such days traveling is particularly toilsome and dan- 
gerous. The state of the atmosphere renders respiration 
difficult, increasing the action of the heart, and producing 
a slight but constant dizziness. All landmarks are oblit- 
erated, and unless one is thoroughly conversant with the 
country, he is liable to lose his way, and be caught at night- 
fall without shelter or fire. But the most dangerous phase 
of travel is the tendency toward inertia. Fatigued by the 
least effort, paralyzed by the cold, perhaps frostbitten in 
many places, despite every precaution, the traveler is likely 
to give up in despair. "I cannot " and " I will not" become 
synonymous terms. All effort is apparently useless ; the 
attention is distracted by the necessity of fighting continually 
to keep face and hands free from frostbite ; keeping the 
road in so blinding a tempest seems to be impossible ; the 
animals one is driving face about in harness, and refuse 
to proceed; and so, beset on every hand, with an intellect 
benumbed and paralyzed by the intense cold, and a body 
overcome by physical inertia, one gives up all effort as only 
adding unnecessary pain, and sits down to be bound hand 
and foot by the final stupor. Five minutes' rest in some 
snowdrift on the plain is enough, in certain conditions of 
fatigue and temperature, to paralyze the energies of the 



THE FROST KING. 299 

strongest man, and make him welcome any fate if only let 
alone to take his ease. We recall more than one time when 
we would have given all we possessed simply to have been 
permitted to lie down in a snowbank for ten minutes ; and 
left to ourselves, we should certainly have done so. Some of 
the best dog-drivers on the plains have related to us similar 
experiences, where the inertia of a poudre day on the prairie 
seemed too intense to be resisted. Persons who know the 
prairie only in summer or autumn have but little notion 
of its winter fierceness and desolation. To get a true con- 
ception of life in these solitudes they must go toward the 
close of November into the treeless waste ; there, amid wreck 
and tempest and biting cold, and snowdrifts so dense that 
earth and heaven seem wrapped together in undistinguisha- 
ble chaos, they will see. a sight as different from their summer 
ideal as day is from night. 

But, though not so dangerous, the still days are the cold- 
est. There are every winter a dozen or more days so magic- 
ally still that all the usual sounds of nature seem to be sus- 
pended; whenthe ice cracks miles away with a report like that 
of a cannon ; when the breaking of a twig reaches one like 
the falling of a tree ; Avhen one's own footsteps, clad in soft 
moccasins, come back from the yielding snow like the 
crunching of an iron heel through gravel ; when every arti- 
ficial sound is exaggerated a hundred fold, and Nature seems 
to start at every break in the intense silence. The atmos- 
phere is as clear as crystal, and the range of vision seems 
to be unlimited. Seen from a window, from the cosy limits 



300 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

of an almost hermetically-sealed room, the clear sunshine 
and crisp freshness of the day appear to invite one forth to 
enjoy its seeming mildness. But the native knows better 
than to venture out. A fifteen minutes' walk in that clear 
ether is a fifteen minutes' fight for existence. A sudden 
prick and one's nose is frozen ; next go both cheeks ; one 
raises his hand to rub away the ghastly white spots, only to 
add his fingers to the list of icy members. Rub as you will, 
run hard, swing your arms — all to no purpose ; the little 
white spots increase in size, until the whole face is covered 
with the waxen leprosy. The breath congeals almost upon 
leaving the mouth, and the icy vapor falls instead of rising. 
Expectorate, and instantly there is a lump of ice where the 
spittle fell. Ah, it is cold beyond belief. The spirit regis- 
ters a temperature away down in the forties. We have seen 
a stalwart man, after a few hours' exposure on such a day, 
walk into the room where every footfall clanked upon the 
floor like blocks of wood clapping together ; his feet frozen 
solid as lumps of ice. 

On such a day one may stand for hours in the snow with 
moccasined feet, and leave no trace of moisture behind. The 
snow is granulated like sand ; there is no adhesiveness in it. 
It is as difficult to draw a sledge through it as through a bed 
of sand. Slipperiness has gone out of it. A horse gives out 
in a few minutes. And yet the aspect of all nature is calm, 
still, and equable as on a May day. 

One of these still nights upon the prairie is unspeakably 
awful. The cold is measured by degrees as much below the 



THE FROST KING. 3OI 

freezing point as ordinary summer temperature is above it. 
Scraping away the snow, the blankets and robes are spread 
down. Then you dress for bed. Your heaviest coat is donned, 
and the hood carefully pulled up over the heavy fur cap upon 
your head ; the largest moccasins and thickest socks are drawn 
on (common leather boots would freeze one's feet in a twink- 
ling) ; huge leather mittens, extending to the elbows, and 
trebly lined, come next ; you lie down and draw all the avail- 
able robes and blankets about you. Then begins the cold. 
The frost comes out of the clear grey sky with still, silent 
rigor. The spirit in the thermometer placed by your head 
sinks down into the thirties and forties below zero. Just 
when the dawn begins to break in the east it will not infre- 
quently be at fifty. You are tired, perhaps, and sleep comes 
by the mere force of fatigue. But never from your waking 
brain goes the consciousness of cold. You lie with tightly- 
folded arms and upgathered knees, and shiver beneath all 
your coverings, until forced to rise and seek safety by the fire. 
If you are a novice and have no fire, count your beads and 
say your prayers, for your sleep will be long. 

This low temperature, however, is vastly preferable to, 
and more enjoyable than the shifting climate of the lake 
regions. One always knows just what to expect, and prepares 
accordingly ; and we doubt whether the feeling of being cold 
all through is not experienced on the levee at New Orleans as 
intensely as in the North. The air is crisp and entirely free 
from moisture, and there is an utter absence of that penetrating, 
marrow-chilling quality which makes winter life further south 



302 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

a burden. No sudden changes pile cold upon cold, and keep 
one's lungs «in a continual congestion. The climate, while 
cold, is equable. From November till April one knows that 
he can never go out without abundant wrappings. Just what 
constitutes an abundance varies considerably in amount. The 
native attires himself in a pair of corduroy trousers, a calico 
shirt, an unlined coat, very much open at the breast to show 
the figured shirt, a fur cap, moccasins, and a pair of duffel 
socks without legs. Thus appareled, he is ready to face 
all day the roughest weather of the winter. But then he 
is continually in motion, and possessed of an unimpaired 
circulation. The foreigner, not to go into the minutiae of his 
wardrobe, simply puts on all the clothing he can conveniently 
walk in, then closely watches the end of his nose. As for 
the aboriginal occupants of the country, little Indians may 
be seen any day running about in the snow before the lodge- 
doors, with the thermometer thirty degrees below zero, clad 
only in their own tawny integuments. 

The effect of the interminable winter landscapes of the 
Fur Land upon the mind of the new-comer is melancholy in 
the extreme ; more especially upon the still days, and where 
an occasional dwelling or tent is embraced in the desolate 
scene. No wind breaks the silence, or shakes the lumps 
of snow off the aspens or willows ; and nothing is heard save 
the occasional cracking of the trees, as the severe frost acts 
upon the branches. The dwelling, if any, stands in a little 
hollow, where the willows and poplars are luxuriant enough to 
afford a shelter from the north wind. Just in front a small 



thb: frost king. 303 

path leads to the river, of which an extended view is had 
through the opening, showing the fantastic outHnes of huge 
blocks and mounds of ice relieved against the white snow. 
A huge chasm, partially filled with fallen trees and mounds of 
snow, yawns on the left of the house ; and the ruddy sparks 
of fire which issue from its chimney-top throw this and the 
surrounding forest in deeper gloom. All around lies the 
unending plain, wrapped in funeral cerements of ghastly 
white, or dotted here and there with slender trees, which 
seem to bend and shiver as they stand with their feet in the 
snow. 

With the advent of a "blizzard," however, all still life 
ends and chaos begins. A blizzard is the white squall of the 
prairies, the simoon of the plains. Like its brother of the 
Sahara, when it comes all animate nature bows before it. 
The traveler prostrates himself in the snow, if he is of the 
initiated, and, covering his head, waits until it passes by. 
To pursue a different course, and journey on is to be lost. 
Let me give you an instance which may serve to illustrate its 
power, and the dangers of travel in the Fur Land : 

In the month of February, 1869, I was called by urgent 
business from my residence near the foot of Lake Winnipeg 
to an interior post, distant some two hundred and fifty miles. 
This call involved no ordinary journey. It meant a weary, 
exhaustive travel of ten or twelve days across an unbroken 
prairie, without shelter of any kind, without the probability 
of encountering a single human being throughout the entire 
route, and the almost certainty of being overtaken by some of 



304 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

the terrible storms prevalent at that season. But the call 
was imperative, and I set about preparing for the journey. 

The preparations were of a primitive sort, there being but 
two methods of travel admissible at that season — the one by 
dog-sledges, the other with horses attached to light carioles. 
The outfit embraced a combination of the two by the selection 
of a commodious dog-sledge, with trams in which to place a 
horse for myself, and a light cariole for my companion ; for 
attendant I must have over that desolate route. Choosing a 
stalwart half-breed, accustomed to the rough life of the 
prairies, and inured to all manner of hardship from infancy, 
we started one bitterly cold day toward the end of the month. 

In the forward conveyance was placed provisions for our- 
selves and provender for the animals, while my own sledge 
was comfortably furnished with the huge bundle of robes and 
blankets requisite for our comfort and even safety in camp. 
Into this shoe-like sledge I fondly hoped to creep and glide 
smoothly to my journey's end. But the intensity of the cold 
soon disenchanted me of that illusion ; for we had proceeded 
but a few miles when I was forced to take to my feet and run 
after the sledge to avoid being frozen. Even then the severity 
of the cold was such that, when jumping on the sledge for a 
momentary respite, on reaching the ground again my blood 
would seem frozen, the muscles refuse to act, and it would 
require a sharp trot of a mile or more before I could recover 
usual warmth. 

Our rate of travel was about twenty-five miles a day. 
The route pursued was that commonly taken by the voyageurs 



THE FROST KING. 305 

in their summer trips, and in many of our proposed camping- 
places the fuel had been exhausted to supply the numberless 
trains which had come and gone in the years before. This 
necessitated, at times, continued travel for an entire day with- 
out stopping. 

At night, we descended the banks of the river, pitching 
our camp upon the second terrace, in some spot equally con- 
venient to wood and water. Then, making an excavation in 
the snow, logs would be heaped up, until our fire was suffi- 
ciently large to afford a genial warmth throughout the night. 
Our sledges turned across the head, and blankets spread 
upon the snow, formed a bed into which, with caps and over- 
coats on, we were at all times ready to creep. 

Thus we journeyed on, until the closing of the seventh 
day brought us to the crossing of Elm River, a small stream 
upon our route. 

The day had been warmer than any experienced since 
starting. In the afternoon the snow had melted sufficiently 
to wet our moccasins thoroughly, and by its softness to 
impede our travel ; so that the distance made had not been 
so great as on other days, while the fatigue and discomfort 
had been greater. During the day we had fallen in with a Mr. 
Wheeler, a gentleman from Montana, with whom I had been 
previously acquainted ; a man of huge and burly physique, 
capable of immense endurance. He was journeying in our 
direction, having come up on the mail-sled the day before, and 
gladly availed himself of an invitation to encamp with us 
for the night. It being nearly dark on our arrival at the 



306 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

river, we did not think it necessary to build a fire, both 
on account of the warmth of the evening, and the quality 
of the fuel, of which we were unable to find any except wet, 
green elm, hardly ignitable. So, having eaten a cold supper, 
we set about our preparations for the night. 

Elm River, like all prairie-streams, is narrow and runs in 
a channel much below the surface of the plain, having, in 
consequence, high banks, which in most cases are precipitous 
but on this stream sloped back, with only moderate abrupt- 
ness, to the level prairie. It was on the farther bank that we 
selected our place of rest for the night, without shelter, of 
course, but sufficiently below the level to be out of the sweep 
of the wind, as we thought. The half-breed and myself 
had for bedding four large buffalo-robes and four blankets ; 
and our custom was to spread one robe and a blanket under 
us, and use the remainder as covering. The amount under 
was sufficient, owing to the snow preventing the cold reach- 
ing us from the earth, and rather increasing the amount 
of heat than otherwise. Mr. Wheeler had two robes and 
two blankets. We lay with our feet toward the stream, Mr. 
Wheeler placing himself immediately across the head of our 
bed — if so I may call it — wrapped in his own bedding. 

I am thus minute in the description of our positions and 
bedding, in order to more thoroughly impress the reader with 
the intensity of the storm which followed. 

It was about six o'clock in the evening when, after taking 
off our wet shoes, we retired, with overcoats and caps on, 
as customary. The sky at that time exhibited no extraordi- 



THE FROST KING. 307 

nary appearance, and the temperature, if any thing, indicated 
snow. Being fatigued with the labors of the day, I was soon 
asleep, and did not awaken until about half-past nine o'clock, 
when I was aroused by the tossings of Mr. Wheeler in his 
efforts to adjust his bedding more comfortably. I observed 
that it had grown colder, and that a sharp wind had sprung 
up, which seemed to come down the channel of the stream 
instead of across it, as we had anticipated in the selection 
of a camp. However, having the guide on the windward 
side, I thought but little of it, and was soon asleep. 

I awoke again, as near as I can judge, in about an hour 
and a half ; this time from a general sensation of cold which 
enveloped me. I found both my companions awake, on speak- 
ing to them, and that Mr. Wheeler had been unable to sleep 
at all, owing to the cold, as he lay with his head to the wind, 
and could not prevent it from entering under the covering. 
It was jDlowing a perfect gale, and the air was so filled with 
whirling particles of snow that we could not distinguish our 
animals at the distance of a few yards. From that time for- 
ward it was impossible to sleep. We did every thing we could 
devise to ward off the cold, and the half-breed seemed espe- 
cially anxious that I should not suffer ; covered me with care, 
and shielded me as much as possible with his own person. But 
the chill seemed to have taken complete possession of me. I 
could not restrain my desire to shake and shiver, although 
knowing that it augmented the difficulty. For a time we 
conversed on the severity of the storm, and our error in not 
having built a fire, but gradually relapsed into silence ; each 



308 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

one, evidently, engaged in endeavoring to protect himself, or 
moodily brooding over his own sufferings. 

Real physical suffering it had now become. The skin on 
my arms and limbs felt quite cold to the touch, and my bones 
grew heavy and chill as bars of iron. Yet, I had no fear, 
or thought even, of freezing to death. On that point I simply 
expected to shiver until morning would give us light sufficient 
to build a fire. The mind, however, was unnaturally acute. 
Thought on every subject was very vivid and distinct. I 
remember to have received a better insight of several subjects 
which occurred to me than at any previous time, and was 
able to think more rapidly. This was, I suppose, owing to 
the increased and enforced vitality necessary to sustain life, 
and to the stimulated condition of the brain under the suffer- 
ing arising from the cold. Every thing was clear and distinct. 
I thought over the business I was upon, and studied the 
minutest details of it, all with remarkable rapidity. Occa- 
sionally my companion spoke to me, or touched me gently 
with his arm, but neither served to break up the general cur- 
rent of thought. 

All through this outer surface of thought, however, there 
ran an undertow of suffering. I was conscious of growing 
colder ; my limbs, especially, felt more chill and heavy. I 
began also to experience a peculiar sensation, as if the flesh, 
for the depth of a quarter or half an inch, was frozen solid, 
and the congealment gradually extending to the bone. The 
bone itself at times felt like a red-hot bar. I noticed, further, 
an increased labor in the beating of the heart, and could 



THE FROST KING. 309 

distinguish the pulsations quite easily. At every throb I 
could feel the blood seemingly strike the end of the veins 
and arteries in the extremities. This after a time produced 
a slight dizziness in the head and a laborious respiration. As 
time went on, the sensation of surface-freezing extended to 
the trunk of the body, and my thoughts grew less connected, 
changing frequently from subject to subject, and narrowing 
down to my own sufferings. I noticed, furthermore, that the 
half-breed spoke more frequently than before, and shook me 
occasionally. Still I had no thought of danger, and even 
laughed at Mr. Wheeler exclaiming, '' Men, men, I believe 
I am freezing to death ! " 

However, during this whole period of two hours or more I 
could not prevent a continual shivering and shaking. I en- 
deavored several times to control my nerves and remain 
quietly in one position, but without avail. At the end of 
that time I noticed that I was becoming quieter; but, while 
physically so, my mind was suffering more. My whole idea 
was to get warm. My body was cold all over — frozen in, 
I felt, to an equal depth in every place. I clung closer to my 
companion in the vain hope of producing more warmth. Oh, 
if I could only get warm again ! I felt that I could willingly 
barter every earthly possession to be warm. I thought bit- 
terly of our culpable carelessness in not building a fire the 
evening previous, and of the joy it would be to sit before 
such blazing fires as we had on nights now gone. If I could 
only get warm again ! Was there not some way in which we 
could get to a fire ? Could not the half-breed build one ? If 



3IO THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

he would only try, I would give him anything ; nothing was 
too dear if I could only feel warm. There was a particular 
room in my brother's house, with a large open fireplace in it. 
If it were only evening, and we were gathered about a bright, 
cheerful fire, how nice and warm I could get ! One some- 
times goes into an hotel sitting-room in winter, and they have 
a huge box-stove, made to take in cord-wood whole. What 
a genial waimth and heat there is ! What a glow there is 
over the entire room ! Oh, if I could only get warm like 
that ! 

I would be aroused at times out of thoughts like these by 
my companion, who now took to pushing me, and constantly 
warning me against falling asleep. Mr. Wheeler, also, was 
continually talking of his freezing, and assured us both that 
his ears were already frozen. 

For the first time I really became conscious of the danger 
we were in. Strange to say, it had no effect upon me. I felt 
no alarm at the possibility of being overtaken by death, I was 
so cold — if I could only get warm again ! This was the bur- 
den of my thought. Yet I was fully conscious of the danger. 
I knew, if death overtook me, in exactly what shape it would 
come. And I knew, furthermore, that I had already passed 
through the first stage, and was nearly through the second. 
Still, with this well-defined knowledge of what was before me, 
I was totally indifferent to the pangs of death. I only wanted 
to be warm ; I felt that in some way I must get warm. I 
thought over the prospect of a speedy death indifferently. 
There was no trouble about the future at all — I did not think 



THE FROST KING. 3II 

of it. The physical suffering and stupor were too great to 
admit of it. 

Twice before in my life I had been in momentary expec- 
tation of death ; and one experience of the horrors of dissolu- 
tion was the same as this. That was a case of dangue fever. 
While perfectly conscious in the last moments — told they were 
my last, and asked if I was prepared to undergo them — I felt 
the same sensation as here ; if I Avere only comfortable, I 
would willingly go. I knew a gentleman once who told me 
that, when in a similar situation — on the point of death — his 
only feeling was one of hunger ; no thought or fear for the 
future at all, if only his appetite could be satisfied. But how 
different that other experience, when called upon to face 
death in full bodily vigor ! The terrors which encompassed 
me are indescribable. 

Continuing in the consciousness of danger, and yet think- 
ing only of my suffering and desire to become warm, after the 
lapse of an hour, probably, I began to get warm — that is, the 
sensation was one of warmth and comfort, but was in reality, 
a species of numbness. I felt my flesh in several places, 
and it produced a prickly, numb feeling, similar to that 
experienced when a limb is asleep. I was comfortable 
and happy, because I was warm, and grew indignant with 
my companion for his unwearied thumps on my body, 
and the continual answers he required to his questions ; I 
wanted to be let alone. Fully conscious that, if I went to 
sleep I would never awaken again, I was perfectly willing 
to go asleep. Even then I remember thinking of poor 



312 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

travelers, lost in the snow, being brought in by St. Bernard 
dogs. 

But I was warm, and laughed silently at Mr. Wheeler's 
complaints of freezing. I paid no further attention to the 
shakings of my companion or his questions, but gathered my- 
self up, and lay thinking how comfortable I was. Pretty soon 
I began to doze, then to awaken suddenly, when I received a 
more severe bloAv than usual. Then I awoke to see the half- 
breed sitting up and bending eagerly over my face, and hear 
a few muttered words to Wheeler — and then a sense of com- 
fort and oblivion. 

Now I was dead. Sensibility had left me. It was evident 
that I would suffer no more. In thirty or forty minutes, an 
hour at farthest, my body would die. Then what ? 

That I should awaken with a bright fire before me, and be 
wrapped in robes and blankets, seemed the most natural thing 
in the world to me. For the matter of that, it appeared to 
me that when I had fallen asleep I had anticipated just such 
a consummation of things, and it was fully half an hour before 
I began in the least to comprehend that any thing out of the 
ordinary channel had occurred. True, I knew in a vague 
and indistinct way that the half-breed was talking of Mr. 
Wheeler being lost, but the matter seemed to be no affair of 
min", and created no surprise. I looked at him chafing my 
arms and legs, and simply felt that it was quite right and 
natural that it should be so. 

Gradually, however, I regained consciousness sufficiently 
to understand that, finding me fast freezing, and impossible to 



THE FK OST KING. 3 1 3 

arouse, he had gone, at the imminent risk of his own life, 
some three hundred yards farther down the stream, and, find- 
ing a dry and partially rotten log, had built a fire ; had then 
returned to find me totally unconscious, and to carry me, 
robes and all, to the fire. The few words he had addressed 
to Mr. Wheeler before leaving me showed that he, too, was 
fast lapsing into the same state, and, when I was carried in 
safety to the fire, had returned to find Mr. Wheeler gone — 
having, evidently, awakened from his stupor sufficiently to 
realize that he was alone, and to wander off, half frenzied, in 
search of us. 

These facts being at last impressed upon my mind by the 
excited and voluble half-breed, I urged him to renew the 
seach for our lost companion ; but he positively refused. He 
explained that, in doing what he had already done, he had 
jeopardized his own life, and had frozen both hands and feet 
considerably ; that, while paid to care for me, he had nothing 
to do with Mr. Wheeler. He urged that, if he left the bank 
of the stream, he was likely to be lost, the snow at once ob- 
literating all trace of his tracks. I ordered him to go, begged 
him to go, but without avail. An offer of five golden sove- 
reigns met with a like refusal. At length, I told him that, if he 
would find Mr. Wheeler, dead or alive, I would give him a 
good horse. For this consideration he went. In twenty min- 
utes he returned, leading the unfortunate man, badly frozen, 
whom he had found running wildly about in a circle on the 
prairie. He was kept from the fire with some difficulty, until 

his hands, feet, and face, were thawed out with water, but 
14 



314 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

did not recover his mind until six hours after. From frequent 
personal observation, I am led to believe that nearly every- 
one who freezes to death upon the prairies, or elsewhere, be- 
comes insane before death.* 

Having been thoroughly warmed and recruited by a 
steaming-hot breakfast, we followed the river to avoid losing 
our way, and in the afternoon reached a Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany's post. Here we were informed that the temperature 
had fallen, during the previous night, to forty-five degrees 
below zero ! We remained in that hospitable shelter for two 
days, during which the terrific storm raged with unabated 
fury. Some dozen Indians and half-breeds perished upon 
the route over which we had just passed. 

After this lapse of time, I recall my thoughts and feelings 
with much more distinctness and accuracy than I could for 
some time immediately subsequent to the events related. No 
one who has passed through great danger realizes fully the 
extent of it at once. It requires time to impress the memory 
with all its circumstances. What my feelings were at this un- 
expected preservation from the dreadful fate which threatened 
me, it is impossible to express. 

* I have had five cases of freezing to death brought under my personal 
observation. In every instance the subject gave indubitable indications of 
insanity before death, and in every case exhibited it in the same way — by 
casting off his clothing and wandering away from it. One subject was 
entirely nude, and distant fully a mile from the last article of clothing he 
had discarded. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A HALF-BREED BALL. 

T)EING invited to attend a ball at the residence of M. 
-*~^ Pierrette Pirouette, in the parish of St. Francois 
Xavier, given in honor of the betrothal of his daughter Pau- 
line, I am anxiously expectant of its delights for the inter- 
venient three days. 

I draw a mental picture of the daughter Pauline, by sur- 
mounting the customary attire of the country with a softened 
shade of her progenitors' features, and inserting an additional 
intensity into the blackness of her eye. I conceive, further- 
more, the^(^?;;r^ of the now matrimonially moribund maiden, 
in black corduroys, moccasins, and sky-blue capote. His 
features are clearly cut in the aboriginal mould, and he 
smokes perennial harougc in a pipq with a china bowl. I 
also portray, in my mental picture-gallery, the manner of their 
courtship, in which the fond maiden, whose brothers are 
given to the chase, succumbs to deeds of desperate daring 
performed on the hunting-field by the youth of her choice, 
who is likewise nomadic in his habits. 

In anticipation, I depict the contents of my friend Pier- 
rette's larder; and, reveling upon the marrow-fat of the 
bison, and the nose of the moose, perform gastronomic feats 
upon the basted ribs of the antelope, worthy of a Patagonian. 



3 l6 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

I even mentally congratulate the blushing Pauline upon the 
discrimination displayed in her choice, and am repaid by 
thanks expressed in a composition of four languages. I also 
express my sense of approval to the bridegroom expectant, 
and am at once invited to imbibe. In effect, I am afflicted 
with a species of mental phantasmagoria until the eventful 
day arrives, and brings reality in the shape of the dog-sledge 
with its attendant driver, which is to convey me over the 
twenty-four miles of prairie intervening between my resi- 
dence and the scene of festivities. 

I place the archives of the consulate, committed to my 
care by a confiding Government, under the guardianship 
of an intelligent half-breed; who, not knowing the difference 
between a certified invoice and a passport, is more than likely 
to describe the first comer in want of a copy of the latter as 
a carcajou. 

As affairs of this description, in this northern climate, 
are likely to continue for the space of three or more days, 
it behooves to make preparations commensurate with the 
duration of my stay ; and I accordingly place a small quantity 
of " renewed woolen " in a receptacle borrowed for that pur- 
pose. I dress in the habiliments of rejoicing usually worn 
upon occasions of this nature, and find myself encased in a 
fine-cloth capote of cerulean hue, and ornamented with brass 
buttons ; black-cloth trousers, supported by a variegated sash, 
the fringed ends of which hang about the knees in a bewil- 
dering manner. 

Being unable to control the canine specimens attached to 



A HALF-BREED BALL. 317 

my sledge with any degree of satisfaction to myself, I surren- 
der all authority in that matter to the copper-visaged driver 
of dogs running at my side. I find, at the outset, considera- 
ble difficulty in retaining an equilibrium, owing to the peculiar 
structure of the sledge, and the constant lurching from side 
to side which it affects ; and am, on one or two occasions, 
precipitated into snow-banks from which, such is the internal 
arrangement of the sledge, I am unable to extricate myself, 
and am, in consequence, dragged along face downward, until 
the driver restores me to a perpendicular position. 

During the progress of the drive I observe that my attend- 
ant appears intimately acquainted with every passer-by, and 
invariably addresses each as his brother. I am at a loss to 
discover the necessity of so general a recognition of relation- 
ship, until I ascertain it to be the current coin of courtesy in 
his grade of society. My attendant has, furthermore, a play- 
ful manner of addressing his dogs in relays of profanity, dis- 
creetly veiled by being delivered in the heathen tongues ; 
and, entertaining a special hatred of his wheel-dog, he flicks 
him constantly with the sharp thongs of his whip. There is, 
also, an implicit faith on his part in my ability to understand 
the dialects of the Six Nations, and he addresses me, from 
time to time, in any one which his fancy may dictate. 

I become gradually more accustomed to the motion of the 
sledge, but am still possessed with a vague sense of insecurity, 
until the half-breed seizes the rope at the end of the convey- 
ance, which he uses as a rudder. I am next seized with the 
idea that my attendant — who is running at the rate of six 



3 I 8 THE GREA T FUR LA XD. 

miles an hour, in his efforts to keep up with the dogs — not 
being endowed with the constitution of a government mule, 
may by some possibility become short of wind, and leave me 
to accomplish the remainder of the distance alone ; but am 
soon reassured by the sublimated state which his profanity 
attains. 

On reaching the house, I am discharged from the sledge 
by some occult process known to the driver, and experience 
the sensation of having been packed away in a case, and 
taken suddenly out to be aired. 

The yard surrounding the house, and the reception-room, 
are already crowded by my host's relatives and invited friends, 
who are walking promiscuously about, and talking in an hila- 
rious manner. When my benumbed limbs have become suf- 
ficiently supple to effect an entrance, I am at once surrounded 
by the guests, who give expression to their delight in a variety 
of ways, and conduct me to an adjoining chamber, beseech- 
ing me to enter and disrobe, and be refreshed. Encompassed 
as I am, it is no easy matter to reach the apartment, where I 
find my host, surrounded by discarded raiment and bottles, 
standing in state. 

After the first greetings are over, and I have swallowed 
the fiery compound provided for the inner man, I pause to 
take a mental note of the surroundings. I observe that my 
host appears already in some measure overcome by the labors 
of reception, and is arrayed in garments of a bewildering 
variety of color, his hair ornamented by one solitary feather. 
My host's relatives are making themselves useful as far as lies 



A HALF-BREED BALL. 319 

in their power, and are endeavoring to renew their exhausted 
energies by frequently bearing aWay the empty bottles into an 
adjoining room to be refilled. I remark that all the apart- 
ments are thick with smoke. There is a continuous series of 
applications to a box, placed upon a chair, containing a mix- 
ture of cut tobacco and the bark of the grey willow, and the 
odor arising therefrom is of an extremely pungent and aro- 
matic nature. Of furniture in the house there is none worth 
mentioning ; furniture in this latitude being represented by a 
few stools, deal tables, and wooden trunks. I note that the 
female portion of the assembly are distributed about in posi- 
tions of charming freedom ; some sitting on the laps of the 
male guests, others surrounding the male necks with their 
arms, and yet others laughing and chatting with a sweet, in- 
constant air among themselves. 

I remark that the guests, of both sexes, are of varied 
shades of color, from the clear, deep copper, to the delicate 
blond, but that all possess the same unvarying black hair and 
eyes. Furthermore, the language spoken is polyglot, being 
an admixture of French, English, and several Indian dialects. 
Well as I am acquainted with myself, I am amazed at the con- 
summate hypocrisy I display in assuming an intimate acquaint- 
ance with them all, when my rascally driver has given it out 
as an indisputable fact. 

At this point I become conscious that the bewitching 
Pauline, fairest of maidens, is regarding me with a fixed stare. 
At my request, her venerated progenitor presents me, when 
she kisses me upon the cheek. Being reminded of biblical as 



320 THE GREAT FUR LAiVD. 

well as French custom on this point, I at once turn the other 
cheek, which she salutes in a like manner. As I do not ob- 
serve that she blushes, or that her father objects, I conclude 
it to be one of the customs of the country, and am inwardly 
rejoiced at the bliss which is yet in store. 

Mademoiselle Pauline introduces me to her betrothed, a 
dark youth, with the straight features of the aboriginal, who 
seems rather overcome with his felicity, and talks feelingly to 
me of sa petite Pauline, and, on my congratulations, over- 
whelms me with proffers of service. 

I note that the conviviality of the guests is only inter- 
rupted by the accession of a new arrival ; that the females 
smile sweetly upon him, and the men play about him in a 
boisterous manner. The new arrival is surrounded as I have 
been, and conducted into the chamber of robes and refresh- 
ments, where his conductors join him in festive libations to 
his health. This excites a spirit of emulation among the 
guests, and each arrival is accompanied by an increased num- 
ber of ushers, who strive to do him honor. It is further pro- 
ductive of an excited and affectionate state of feeling ; the 
females are hugged more frequently and thoroughly, and cer- 
tain exuberant spirits betray an inclination to cut pigeon-wings 
without a musical accompaniment. 

The betrothed of Pauline comes to me, and talks earnestly 
and incoherently of son ange de son coeur, and clings to my 
buttons with charming familiarity. 

I am inducted by the gushing Pauline into the depths of 
the back-kitchen, to pay my respects to her mother, with 



A HALF-BREED BALL. 321 

whom I have a previous acquaintance. She receives me with 
cordiality, and embraces me with a knife and fork in her 
hands, which endanger the safety of my visual organs to an 
alarming extent. I am, however, appeased by an osculatory 
performance on both cheeks, which would have been infinitely 
more agreeable coming from her daughter. I am assured of 
the excellence of the repast to be served, by the delicious 
odor arising from the kettles, and from the numerous spits 
turning slowly before the huge fireplace, and of its prospec- 
tive extent, by the joints of bison, and the multiplicity of 
smaller game displayed upon the dresser. 

I am reminded of there being "a time to dance," by the 
gathering of the guests in the apartments devoted to that 
exercise, and by the tuning up of a mangy and enervated 
violin, which produces a sensation on the tympanum not un- 
like the filing of a saw. The musician, too, seems to suffer 
from a chronic attack of St. Vitus's dance, confined to the 
head, and thumps monotonously upon the floor, with mocca- 
sined feet, keeping time to his music. 

A festively-attired youth, with intensely Indian features, 
proceeds to call off the measures of the dance, in a corrup- 
tion of the musical language of la belle France. The dances 
do not partake of the nature of the dreamy waltz, or the mild 
mazourka, but rather of the wild eccentricities of the jig and 
physical labor of the reel. The volatile half-breed requires 
something vigorous and exciting in his amusements. The 
disciples of Terpsichore, male and female, take positions upon 

the floor, and, after a preliminary courtesy, start off in the 
14* 



322 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

jig ; the remainder of the guests looking on with admiring 
eyes. After a few minutes, a young man jigs across the floor, 
and usurps the place of the first performer, and the female is 
shortly relieved by another of her sex, who is soon superseded 
by yet another. So it continues, until all the company have 
taken turns upon the floor. I am matriculating for a stoic, 
yet confess to irreverent laughter at the trembling forms of 
the dancers, who perform with a nervous energy and excite- 
ment that is indescribable. 

At times there is an evident desire exhibited by the favor- 
ite performers to test the capacity of their legs and the sound- 
ness of their wind, by earnest efforts to dance each other down. 
On these occasions the audience become intensely sympathetic, 
and encourage their favorite champion by words of superla- 
tive endearment. I hear my neighbor apostrophizing the lady 
thus : " Oh, my little dear ! what legs you have got ! You are 
entirely too much for that little frog ! When you are done, 
you shall have a drink, my daughter ! Ah, holy Moses, what 
power ! what endurance ! You could outrun the deer, moii 
mignon ! Well, will you win, w^: Inchettel Sac re ! you are 
down, eh ! " 

Then come the reels, performed by six or eight dancers, 
who circle about in an energetic way, and, when exhausted, 
retire and give place to others. There is no cessation, save 
when the artist, wielding the instrument of Paganini, signifies 
to the parched condition of his throat by becoming slower in 
his touch.. 

As the dance continues, the excitement grows more in- 



A HALF-BREED BALL. 323 

tense, and the civilized and heathen dialects are more inex- 
tricably mixed up. The performers are unwearied in their 
efforts, and, when forced to retire from the field, are covered 
with perspiration. I am convinced of the democratic nature 
of the assembly, by seeing my uncivilized driver of dogs em- 
braced in the number of the dancers. But it is becoming 
infectious. 

I am seized with a desire to join in the Terpsichorean 
maze, and, finding Pauline, I plunge into the intricacies of a 
reel. I am no match, however, for that matrimonially- 
inclined young woman, and, after a few turns, find myself 
swinging off at a tangent, like the loose linger of a compass. 
I am alarmed at the complicated machinery I have set going, 
but am, ere long, swung off to a wooden chest by the excited 
Pauline, who exhibits some inclination to encamp on my 
knees. That being a weak point in my anatomy, I forego 
the pleasure by sliding quickly to the end of the box, upon 
which the enthusiastic maiden sits down solidly. 

I discover that the gyrations of the dance have produced 
a dizziness about the head, and a nausea in the stomach, to 
which I am unaccustomed. As it increases, I " swear off " 
dancing, and devote my talents to observation and pleasant 
chats with my friend Pierrette. Employed in this manner, 
I fail for some time to note the greasy mouths and fingers of 
many of the guests. When I do so, and the consciousness 
dawns upon me that these are certain indications of supper, 
I at once retire to the depths, registering a vow to partake of 
every dish upon the table. 



324 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

I am assured that the engaged Pauline, and her fair sis- 
ters, do not feed alone upon ambrosia, from witnessing their 
prowess with knife and fork at table. What the delicate sex 
of civilization would think of such an exhibition of carnivo- 
rous appetite, is beyond my penetration. The viands consist 
wholly of meats, flanked by wheaten cakes, baked in the 
ashes. 

My vis-a-vis announces the termination of his meal, by 
asking the maiden whom he attends whether she is full (!) 
She replies that she is full. Imitating their example, I return 
to the ballroom in a gorged and semi-dormant condition. 

The dance still continues with unabated vigor, although 
now well toward morning. I note, however, the mysterious 
disappearance, from time to time, of the dancers, who reap- 
pear at unexpected intervals with a certain frouzy air, which, 
nevertheless, quickly disappears under the excitement of the 
dance. Impelled by curiosity, I pursue a retreating form, 
and am led to a distant part of the mansion, where I find, 
stretched out upon the floor, the recumbent forms of the miss- 
ing guests. From time to time, as many as are requisite to 
keep up the festivities, are awakened ; and, being forthwith 
revived with raw spirits, join in the dance with renewed vigor. 
Passing another apartment, I catch a glimpse of the female 
guests enjoying a similar siesta, and thus learn how the aft'air 
is continued for so long a period. 

On arising in the morning, I am astonished to find the 
dancers of the previous night replaced by an entirely new set, 



A HALF-BREED BALL. 325 

of more mature age and aspect, who have dropped in to bear 
the burden of the festivities during the day. On the approach 
of night again, however, the former set resume their places, 
and thus it continues for a number of days. 

After three days, I make my adieus to the pleasant family, 
and am whirled back to civilization by my demoralized driver 
of dogs, fully satisfied with my experience of a half-breed 
Indian ball. 



CHAPTER XV. 



A WOOD- INDIAN TRADE. 



I "'ROM the latter part of October, when the hunters and 
■^ trappers take advances for the winter's hunt, to the 
latter part of March, when the season's catch of fur beghis 
slowly to come in, but few indications of life are visible about 
the isolated trading-posts of the company scattered through- 
out the Fur Land. Through the deep snow, drifted within 
the stockades in fantastic outlines, narrow paths are cut. 
Occasionally a shivering figure hurries from one building to 
another, but for the most part they are deserted ; and, except 
for the light smoke curling from the chimney-tops, one might 
fancy the small collection of houses but a series of snow- 
drifts, shaped by the shifting winds into a weird but transient 
likeness to human habitation. As the spring approaches, 
however, the hibernal torpor which has influenced a large 
portion of the trading population, gives way to the active life 
generated by the vigorous prosecution of the fur-trade. 

Toward the latter end of March, or the beginning of April, 
the Indian trappers leave their hunting-grounds, and make a 
journey to the fort with the produce of their winter's toil. 
Here they come, marching through the forest, a motley 
throng ; not men only, but women and children and dogs, of 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 327 

all ages and condition ; each dragging sleds, or hand-tobo- 
gans, bearing the precious freight of fur to the trading-post. 
The braves march in front, too proud and too lazy to carry 
anything but their guns, and not always doing even that. 
After them come the squaws, bending under loads, driving 
dogs, or hauling hand-sleds laden with meat, furs, tanned 
deer-skins, and infants. The puppy dog and the inevitable 
baby never fail in Indian lodge or cortege. The cheering 
spectacle of the two, packed together on the back of a wo- 
man, is not of infrequent occurrence ; for in the Fur Land 
wretched woman often bears man's burden of toil as well 
as her own. The unwilling dog also becomes a victim, and 
degenerates into a beast of burden, either drawing a sledge, or 
a loaded travaille. 

Fifty or one hundred miles away from the nearest fort the 
minks and martens of the Indian trappers have been cap- 
tured. Half-a-dozen families have, perhaps, wintered to- 
gether, and they all set out for the fort in company. The 
dogs and women are heavily laden, and the march through 
the melting snow is slow and toilsome. All the household 
goods have to be taken along. The black and battered 
kettles, the leather lodge, the axe, the papoose strapped in 
its moss-bag, the two puppy dogs not yet able to care for 
themselves, the snowshoes for hunting, the rush mats, the 
dried meat ; all together it makes a big load, and squaw and 
dog toil along with difficulty under it. Day after day the 
mongrel party journeys on, until the j^ost is reached. Then 
comes the trade. 



328 THE GREAT FUR LAXD. 

The trapping or wood-Indian not being considered a dan- 
gerous customer, the gates of the post are freely thrown open 
to him. Accompanied by his female following, bearing the 
burden of fur, he marches boldly into the trading-room. Here 
the trader receives him, and proceeds at once to separate his 
furs into lots, placing the standard valuation upon each pile. 

The company has one fixed, invariable price for all goods 
in each district, and there is no deviation from the schedule. 
Any Indian to whom particular favor is meant receives a 
suitable present, but neither gets more for his furs, nor pays 
less for his supplies, than the tariff directs. In the southern 
portion of the territory, which forms the great battle-ground 
between the company and free-traders, the Indians receive 
many presents to keep them true to their allegiance. Espe- 
cially is this true with the most expert trappers, who often 
get articles to the value of fifty or sixty skins (upwards of 
$35 in value), and the ordinary hunters receive large presents 
also. In the North, however, where the company is all-pow- 
erful, and rules its subjects with a mild and equitable sway, 
presents are only made in exceptional cases. The company 
reserve a very narrow margin of profit, so narrow, indeed, 
that on certain staple articles there is an absolute loss. In 
the Missouri country, some years ago, when several rival 
companies existed, the selling price of goods, as compared to 
their cost price, was about six times greater than that fixed 
by the Hudson's Bay Company's general tariff. 

And yet their total profits are so enormous that it has been 
deemed advisable, from time to time, to hide the truth by 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE, 329 

nominal additions to the capital stock. Of two hundred and 
sixty-eight proprietors there were, in July, 1858, one hundred 
and ninety-six who had purchased at two hundred and twenty 
to two hundred and forty per cent. In the hostilities between 
the French and English from 1682 to 1688 they lost _;^i 18,0 14, 
yet in 1864 a dividend of fifty per centum, and in 1869 one 
of twenty-five per centum, were paid. The capture of for- 
tresses by the French at intervals between 1662 and 1697 cost 
them ^97,000. Yet soon after the peace of Utrecht they 
had trebled their capital, with a call of only ten per centum 
on the stockholders. No wonder that in those days, and for 
long after, a Hudson's Bay share w'as never long in the 
market. 

For a very evident reason — that of the goose and golden 
eggs — the price paid for furs is not in strict accordance with 
their intrinsic value. If it was, all the valuable fur-bearing 
animals would soon become extinct, as no Indian would bother 
himself to trap a cheap fur when a high-priced one remained 
alive. The hunter may possibly, in the remote northern 
regions, have to pay five silver-fox skins for his pair of three- 
point blankets, worth there about fifteen dollars, the value of 
the skins paid representing two hundred dollars ; but he can, 
if he likes, buy the same article by paying for it in muskrat 
red-fox, or skunk-skins of inferior worth. In the early days 
of the trade, before the facilities for transportation were as 
perfect as now, the price of merchandise far exceeded that of 
the present time. 

We have been credibly informed that when Fort Dunve- 



330 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

gan, on Peace River, near the Rocky Mountains, was first 
established, the regular price of a trade-musket was Rocky 
Mountain sables piled up on each side of it until they were 
level with the muzzle. The sables were worth in England at 
least fifteen dollars apiece, and the musket cost in all not more 
than five dollars. The price of a six-shilling blanket was in 
a like manner thirteen beavers of the best quality, and twenty 
of a less excellent description. At that time beaver were worth 
eight dollars a pound, and a good beaver would weigh from 
one to one and three-quarter pounds. Gradually the Indians 
began to know better the value of a musket and of their furs, 
and to object most decidedly to the one being piled along- 
side the other, which, report goes, was lengthened every year 
by two inches. Finally a pestilent fellow discovered silk as a 
substitute for the napping of beaver hats, and that branch of 
the trade declined. 

Lest an erroneous impression of the profit made on the 
trade-musket by the company may be gained, however, it may 
be well to state that because the flint-gun and the sable pos- 
sess so widely different values in the world's markets, it does 
not necessarily follow that they should also possess the same 
relative values in the Fur Land. Seven years often elapse 
after the trade-musket leaves the company's warehouses in 
London before it returns to the same place in the shape of 
sable. It leaves England in the company's ship in June, and 
for one year lies within the walls of York Factory, on Hudson's 
Bay ; one year later it reaches Red River ; twelve months 
later again it reaches Fort Simpson, on the INIackenzie River; 



A WOOD-INDIA, V TRADE. 331 

there it is turned into sable Avithin the year, and returns to 
London in three years, following the same route over which 
it came. That old rough flint-gun, whose bent barrel the In- 
dian hunter will often straighten between the limbs of a tree 
or in the cleft of a rock, has been made precious by the long 
labor of many men ; by the trackless wastes through which it 
has been carried ; by the winter famine of those persons who 
have to sell it ; and by the years which elapse between its de- 
parture from the workshop, and the return of the skin of sable 
or silver-fox for which it was bartered. 

It is a mistake also to suppose that spirits are supplied in 
large quantities from the company's stores. In the Northern 
districts spirits are not allowed to enter the country ; and in 
no case are they a medium of traffic for furs ; though in the 
Southern districts rum is sometimes exchanged for provisions 
when they cannot be got on other terms. It is only when 
the Indian is in communication with free-traders that he be- 
comes a regular drunkard ; those who deal with the company 
confining themselves, or rather being confined, to a small 
quantity twice a year; the first when they receive their sup- 
plies before the hunting season, the second when they return 
with the product of the chase. Even this custom obtains only 
with the Plain-Indians, and is being gradually abolished. 

The trader, having separated the furs, and valued each at 
the standard valuation, now adds the amount together and 
informs the Indian — who has been a deeply interested specta- 
tor of all this strange procedure — that he has got sixty or 
seventy '* skins." At the same time he hands his customer 



332 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

sixty or seventy little bits of wood, to represent the number 
of skins ; so that the latter may know, by returning these in 
payment of the goods for which he really barters his furs, 
hoAV fast his funds decrease. 

The first act of the Indian is to cancel the debt of last 
year. This is for advances made him at the beginning of 
the season ; for the company generally issue to the Indians 
such goods as they need, up to a certain amount, when the 
summer supplies arrive at the forts, such advances to be re- 
turned in furs at the end of the season. 

After that he looks round upon the bales of cloth, guns, 
blankets, knives, beads, ribbons, etc., which constitute the 
staples of the trade, and after a long while, concludes to have 
a small white capote. The trader tells him the price, but he 
has a great deal of difficulty in understanding that eight or 
ten skins only equal one capote. He believes in the single 
standard of values — one skin for one capote. If an Indian 
were to bring in a hundred skins of different sorts, or all alike, 
he would trade off every one separately, and insist on payment 
for each, as he sold it. It is a curious and interesting 
sight to watch him selecting from the stores articles that he 
may require, as he disposes of skin after skin. If he has only 
a small number, he walks into the shop with his blanket about 
him, and not a skin visible. After some preliminary skir- 
mishing he produces one from under his blanket, trades it, tak- 
ing in exchange what he absolutely needs ; then he stops. 
Just as one thinks the trading is over, he produces another 
peltry from beneath his blanket, and buys something else. 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 333 

Thus he goes on until, having bought all the necessaries he 
requires, he branches off into the purchase of luxuries — 
candy, fancy neckties, etc. Under so slow a process an 
Indian trader needs to possess more than average patience. 

When the little white capote has been handed the Indian, 
the trader tells him the price is ten skins. The purchaser 
hands back ten little pieces of wood, then looks about for 
something else; his squaw standing at his elbow, and suggest- 
ing such things as they need. Everything is carefully exam- 
ined, and with each purchase the contest over the apparent 
inequality between the amount received for that given is 
renewed. With him, one skin should pay for one article of 
merchandise, no matter what the value of the latter. And he 
insists also upon selecting the skin. Like his savage brethren 
of the prairies, too, he has never solved the conundrum of the 
steelyard and weighing-balance — he does not understand 
what " medicine " that is. That his tea and sugar should be 
balanced against a bit of iron conveys no idea of the relative 
values of peltries and merchandise to him. He insists upon 
making the balance swing even between the trader's goods 
and his own furs, until a new light is thrown upon the ques- 
tion of steelyards and scales by the acceptance of his proposi- 
tion. Then, when he finds his fine furs balanced against 
heavy blankets and balls, he concludes to abide by the old 
method of letting the white trader decide the weight in his 
own way ; for it is clear that the steelyard is a very great 
medicine, which no brave can understand, and which can 
only be manipulated by a white medicine-man. 



334 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

The white medicine-man was, in the fur-trade of fifty 
years ago, a terrible demon in the eyes of the Indian. His 
power was unlimited, and reached far out upon the plains. 
He possessed medicines of the very highest order : his heart 
could sing, demons sprang from the light of his candle, and 
he had a little box stronger than the strongest Indian. When 
the savage Plain tribes proved refractory around the com- 
pany's trading-posts, the trader in charge would wind up his 
music-box, get his magic lantern ready, and take out his 
galvanic battery. Placing the handle of the latter instrument 
in the grasp of some stalwart chief, he would administer a 
terrific shock to his person, and warn him that far out upon 
the plains he could inflict the same medicine upon him. If 
the doughty chieftain proved penitent and tractable thereafter, 
the spring of the music-box, concealed under his coat, would 
be touched, and, lo ! the heart of the white trader would sing 
with the strength of his love for the Indian. " Look," he 
would say, " how my heart beats for you ! " and the bewil- 
dered savage would stalk away in doubt of his own identity. 
If the red-man made medicine to his Manitou, and danced 
before all his gods, the white medicine-man would paint gib- 
bering demons on the skins of his lodge, and send fiery goblins 
riding through the midnight air, until, in sheer terror, the 
superstitious savage hid his painted face in the dank grasses 
of the prairie. 

When the Indian trapper has paid his debt and purchased 
all needful supplies, if he has any skins remaining, he turns 
his attention to the luxuries of life. The luxuries of life with 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 335 

this painted child of the forest and stream consist of fancy 
neckties, colored beads, cotton handkerchiefs, red and yellow 
ochre, and cheap and tawdry jewelry. For articles such as 
these he hands over his remaining chips, amid childlike 
manifestations of delight on the part of his expectant squaw. 
Then he turns his attention to the last, and, to him, most im- 
portant feature of the trade — that of getting into debt again ; 
for a great majority of the Indian and half-breed trappers and 
hunters really live in a state of serfdom, or peonage, to the 
company. Indeed, it may be said that every man, woman 
and child living in the Fur Land contributes to the revenue 
of that corporation ; and also that the company feeds, clothes, 
and wholly maintains nine-tenths of the entire population ; 
nearly all classes being more or less engaged in the fur-trade, 
and bartering their produce at the many posts scattered over 
the country. Like the Mexican or Brazilian peon, the In- 
dian trapper is so constantly, and, for him, largely in debt 
to the fur-trade, as to be practically its servant. Twice 
during the year, perhaps, he is free from debt and his own 
master; but such freedom is only of momentary duration, 
continuing but for such time as he can get into debt again. 
In fact, the trapper seems ill at ease when free from pecu- 
niary obligation, and plunges into it with a facility and to an 
extent only limited by his ability to contract it. By this 
system of advances the company rules its vast territories, and 
is as much a monarch of the frozen latitudes as Crusoe was 
monarch of his island. The continuance of this system has 
been caused by the necessities of the hunters and trappers ; 
and by the fact that the company, like the wise corporation 



336 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

that it is, does not kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, 
but carefully cares for the game and the hunters on its vast 
preserves. 

Contrary to the general rule in civilized life, a debt is 
seldom lost, except in the event of the death of the trapper. 
He may change his place of abode hundreds of miles, but 
he still has only a company's post at which to trade ; and it 
is impossible for him so to conceal his identity as not to be 
found out sooner or later. But the trapper seldom attempts 
to evade the payment of his debts; he is not yet civilized to 
that degree which practices rehypothecation. The company 
has always been a good friend to him and his, supplied his 
necessities, ministered to his wants, and he pays when he 
can. He knows that when he liquidates his old debt, he 
can contract a new one just as big. He knows, too, that 
when the company promise him anything he will get it ; and 
that he will always pay just so much for his goods and no 
more. No attempt was ever made to cheat him, and there 
never will be. When he is ill, he goes to the nearest fort 
and is cared for and attended until he recovers. When he 
does his duty well, he gets a present ; and he never performs 
any labor for his employers without receiving a fair compen- 
sation. Such humane treatment binds the Indian and half- 
breed to the company in a bond that is not easily broken. 
So, when he has spent all his little pieces of wood, and asks 
for further advances, he is allowed to draw any reasonable 
amount. Carefully looking over the purchases already made, 
counting up his supply of ammunition, clothing, gew-gaws, 



A WOOD-INDIAN TIRADE. 337 

etc., he concludes to take more tea and tobacco ; for the 
trapper is a very Asiatic in his love of soothing stimulants. 

The consumption of tea in the Fur Land is enormous, the 
annual importation for one department alone (the Northern) 
amounting to over one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. 
The tea used is nearly all of the black varieties, and com- 
mands a price ranging from two to three shillings sterling per 
pound. In every half-breed's hut and Indian lodge the tea- 
kettle is always boiling. Unlike the Asiatic, who drinks his 
tea from a glass tumbler, with sugar and a slice of lemon to 
give it flavor, the native of the Fur Land takes his Confu- 
cian beverage undiluted from any vessel that may come hand- 
iest ; though preferring the black and battered cup in which 
it has been brewed. He likes it, too, as near the boiling 
point as can be reached, and as strong as can be made ; 
though he will take it at any temperature, and of any degree 
of strength, rather than not get it at all. He drinks enormous 
quantities of it at his meals, until, like Mr. Weller's girl, he 
swells visibly before your very eyes ; gets up in the night, 
time after time, and drinks it cold ; carries it with him in his 
weary journeys over the plains, and halts at every available 
pine thicket to build a fire and put his kettle on. Meet a 
party of Wood-Indians anywhere, and after the handshake 
and inevitable " How ! " comes the mystic word " the." A 
very little suffices to make them happy, and wrapping it 
carefully in their blankets, they run to the nearest timber and 
start a fire. When the half-breed buys tea at the trading- 
store, he never permits the officious clerk to wrap it in paper, 
15 



338 THE GREAT FUR LAND. 

but purchases a new handkerchief, or a square of white cot- 
ton, to put it in. He cherishes a vague and misty idea that 
brown paper absorbs the aroma of his tea, and lessens its 
strength. Besides, the cotton handkerchief becomes aromatic 
from its savory contents, and consequently more valuable. 

Nearly on a par with the consumption of tea in the country 
ranks that of tobacco. The company's annual importation for 
the Northern department alone amounts to over seventy-five 
thousand pounds. It comes, for the most part, in the shape 
of manufactured plugs — small black "tens," composed of 
equal parts of molasses, tobacco, copperas, and other ingre- 
dients — for the aboriginal and his blood relations, and the 
large, flat, natural-leaf cavendish for the whites. The amount 
of smoking going on seems at first incredible to the new- 
comer. Everybody "puffs a cloud," and goes prepared 
with all the paraphernalia of a smoker. The native carries a 
fire-bag — a long leather bag, containing pipe, tobacco, knife, 
flint and steel, and harougc, the inner bark of the grey willow. 
He mixes an equal quantity of the Indian weed with the 
willow-bark, and smokes it from choice and economy. The 
compound has a rather pungent, aromatic odor, not unlike 
that produced by smoking cascarilla bark. The Indians also 
mingle with their tobacco an equal amount of a small species 
of sage, common on the prairie, in lieu of the willow-bark. Its 
continued use, however, is productive of certain irritable dis- 
eases of the throat and cellular tissues of the lungs, and finally 
of consumption. The dry, hacking cough, common among 
Indians, is said to be one of the primary results of its use. 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 



339 



The purchase of such soothing solace terminates the trade 
of the Indian trapper. After going in debt to the extent of 
his ability, he wends his way to the forest again. The furs he 
has traded are thrown carelessly behind the counter, to be 
afterward carried to the fur-room. 

In the early spring, when the snow is 
gone from the plains, and the ice has left 
the rivers, the workmen at the trading- 
post begin to pack all the fur skins in 
bales of from eighty to one hundred 
pounds each, that being the usual weight 
of each package — goods or furs — in the 
company's trade. The outer covering is 
buffalo-skin, or raw-hide ; loops are made 
to each package in order to sling it on 
the pack-saddles, if the pack is sent from 
an inland post ; the pack-saddles are re- 
paired and thongs cut to fasten the bales on to the horses. 
The company's horses — of which each fort has its comple- 
ment — that have wintered in some sheltered valley, under the 
care of Indians, are now brought to the post; the packs are 
tied on, and the train starts for the depot or chief fort of the 
district, situated always on the banks of some navigable 
stream. This is calling fitting out a brigade, and forms the 
grand event of fort life — being looked forward to by the men 
as a boy anticipates his holidays. Arrived at the depot, the 
bales are handed over, and goods for the ensuing year re- 
ceived in return. 




A FIRE-BAG. 



340 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

It generally occurs that several brigades meet at the depot 
simultaneously. In this event the spectacle presented is 
quaint and singular : the wild looks, long unkempt hair, sun- 
burnt faces and leather costumes of the traders being only 
exceeded by the still wilder appearance and absence of cloth- 
ing among their Indian attendants. So long as the brigades 
remain the scene is one continuous festivity, eating, drinking 
and quarreling. When the brigades depart, the furs are all 
sorted and repacked, and pressed into bales by an enormous 
lever — rum and tobacco being placed between the layers of 
skins to keep out the insects and moths. They are then 
shipped by slow stages to the nearest seaport, and eventually 
sold at public auction in London. It is estimated that the 
total worth of the furs collected by the Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany alone since its organization represents a money value of 
$120,000,000 in gold. Still, strange to say, owing to the care- 
ful preservation of game by the company, the average yearly 
catch is not sensibly decreasing. 

It may not be uninteresting in this connection to give a 
brief sketch of the various furs traded by the company, and 
the average number of each species annually exported from 
its territories.* 

The first in point of value is the pine marten, or Hudson's 
Bay sable, of which about 120,000 skins, on an average, are 
exported every year. The martens or sables from this region 
are not considered so valuable furs as the sables of Russia, 

* For many of the statistics which follow the author is indebted to an 
article on " American Furs," by J. K. Lord, F. Z. S., in the Leisure Hour. 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 34I 

although there is no doubt that the varieties are in reality 
one and the same species ; the difference in temperature, and 
other local causes, readily accounting for the better quality 
of the Russian fur. In fact the difference between the two is 
not always discernible, the lighter-colored skins being usually 
dyed and sold as Russian sable. The winter fur is the most 
valuable, and the Indian trappers say the first fall of rain, after 
the snow disappears, spoils the marten. When caught the 
animal is skinned like a rabbit, the peltry being inverted as 
it is removed, then drawn over a flat board, and dried in the 
sun. The animals haunt the pine forests, especially where 
fallen or dead timber abounds, and are mostly caught in the 
style of trap known as the dead-fall. A good marten skin is 
worth in trade from two and a half to three dollars. The 
best skins come from the far North, being darker and finer 
furred than others. 

The fisher is much like the pine marten, but larger. Just 
why he is called a fisher we cannot imagine, as he does not 
catch fish, or go near the water except when compelled to 
swim a stream. He climbs readily, but is trapped like the 
marten. The tail is very long and bushy, and at one time a 
large trade was carried on in them, only the tails being worn 
by the Polish Jew merchants. About twelve thousand are 
annually exported from the territory. The average trade 
price is from two and a half to three dollars. The fisher in 
full winter coat makes a finer suit of furs than the sable. 

The mink is vastly inferior to either fisher or marten in 
the quality of fur, and its habits are entirely different. It 



342 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

frequents streams and water-courses, and feeds upon fish, 
crabs, etc. The Indian hunter catches it with a steel trap, 
baited generally with fish. The trade price is about fifty cents 
a skin. About 250,000 skins are exported, the majority of 
which ultimately go to the continent of Europe. 

The raccoon is widely scattered over the territories of the 
company, about 520,000 skins being purchased and exported 
every year. The raccoons are generally shot, but a few are 
taken in steel traps. The fur is not very valuable, being prin- 
cipally used in making carriage-rugs and in lining inferior 
cloaks and coats. 

The most valuable fur traded by the company is that of 
the black and silver foxes. There are three species of fox 
found in the territory — the black or cross, the silver and the 
red fox. The two former are considered to be only varieties 
of the latter ; as in any large collection of skins every inter- 
mediate tint of color, changing by regular gradations from 
the red into the cross and from the cross into the silver and 
black, may be found, rendering it difficult even for the trader 
to decide to which of the varieties a skin really belongs. The 
Indians also assert that cubs of the three varieties are con- 
stantly seen in the same litter. The silver and cross fox skins 
bring from %\o to $50 each ; the red fox is only worth about 
five to eight shillings. About 50,000 red foxes, 4,500 cross, 
and 1,000 silver are annually exported. The silver fox fur is 
almost entirely sold to Chinese and Russian dealers. 

To illustrate the difference in the trade in beaver now as 
compared with what it was before the introduction of silk in 



A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 343 

the napping of hats, we may mention that in 1743 the com- 
pany sold in England 26,750 skins, and more than 127,000 
were exported and sold at Rochelle, in France. In 1788 
Canada alone supplied 176,000, and in 1808 again 126,927 
skins. About 60,000 are now brought annually from the 
company's territories. So much was this fur in demand be- 
fore the introduction of silk and rabbits' fur that the poor little 
rodent in some districts is entirely exterminated. The prin- 
cipal use made of the fur now is in the manufacture of bon- 
nets in France, and in making cloaks. The long hair is pulled 
out, and the under fur shaved down close and even by a 
machine ; some of it is still felted into a kind of cloth. The 
beaver is a very difficult animal to trap, but is, nevertheless, 
rapidly disappearing from the great fur preserves of the North. 

The musk-rat is similar in many of its habits to the beaver. 
Indeed, some of the species build their houses precisely as the 
beaver does. The hunters generally spear them through the 
walls and roofs of their dwellings. The annual destruction 
of these little animals, though immense, many hundreds of 
thousands being yearly exported, does not serve greatly to 
diminish their numbers. The fur is of very little value, being 
used in the coarsest manufactures. Large bundles of the tails 
of the musk-rat are constantly exposed for sale in the bazaars 
of Constantinople as articles for perfuming clothing. 

The lynx or wildcat is found in considerable numbers 
throughout the territory. Its fur, however, though prettily 
marked, is not of much value. Of wolf skins about fifteen 
thousand are annually exported, and of the land otter about 



344 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

seventeen thousand skins are often procured. Thefur of the sea 
otter, though the most valuable fur traded, is very difficult to 
obtain. The animal ranges along the seacoast between Cali- 
fornia and Alaska, and appears to be a connecting link be- 
tween the true seal and the land otter. It is generally caught 
in nets or speared by the Indians in the sea. Nearly all the 
sea-otter fur goes to China, and a good skin is worth about 
$200. 

The coarse fur of the wolverine or American glutton is 
used mostly in the manufacture of muffs and linmgs, and is 
of comparatively little value. Only a small exportation — 
about twelve hundred skins yearly — is made by the company. 
Some years ago the caprices of fashion introduced the fur of 
the skunk into popular use, and for a few seasons the traffic 
in that odorous peltry was enormous. Now, however, its use 
is almost wholly abandoned, and only about a thousand skins 
are yearly collected. The Indians generally shoot the skunk, 
and always skin it under water. 

The skin of the bear — black, brown, and grizzly — is always 
in demand, and is used for innumerable purposes. The 
number of bears killed annually is not easily determined, but, 
at a safe average, it may be estimated at 9,000. The greater 
part are killed in winter, during their period of hibernation. 
An immense business is also carried on in rabbit fur. Besides 
the hundreds of thousands of rabbit skins exported by the 
company, there are sold annually in London about 1,300,000 
skins which are used in the fur trade. The natives of the 
territory manufacture large quantities of these skins into 



A WOOD-INDIAN' TRADE. 345 

bed-quilts, the pelts being cut into strips and braided into 
thick braids, which are then sewed together and covered with 
cloth, making a quilt unsurpassed for warmth. 

An immense annual export, which cannot properly come 
under the head of fur, is made by the company in the shape 
of buffalo robes. In the autumn of 1870 the line of forts 
along the Saskatchewan River, in the Plain country, had 
traded 30,000 robes before the first of January ; and for every 
one traded fully as many more in the shape of skins of parch- 
ment had been purchased, or consumed in the thousand 
wants of savage life. The number of buffaloes annually 
killed in the territory seems incredible; 12,000 are said to 
fall by the Blackfeet alone. It is only during a part of the 
winter that the coat is " prime," as the phrase is. Before the 
first of November the hair is not long enough to make a 
marketable robe. After the middle of January it gets ragged, 
and its rich black-brown is bleached by the weather to the 
color of dirty tow, especially along the animal's back. Dur- 
ing the summer months the hair is, very short, and frequently 
rubbed entirely off in many places, from the animal's habit of 
wallowing in the mud. The robe of commerce is generally 
taken from cows, and sometimes from young bulls, but never 
from old bulls, whose hides are much too thick and heavy. 
In the winter months the latter are covered all over with 
thick, long and curly fur ; a mane of light-brown hair and 
fur, like that of a lion, only larger, envelopes his neck ; a long 
glossy dewlap, hanging from his chin like a deep fringe, 

sweeps the ground ; which, with his savage-looking muzzle, 
15* 



346 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

and prominent black eyes flashing between the tangled locks 
of his hair, give him altogether a most ferocious appearance. 
In reality, however, he is a very timid animal, and it is only 
when he imagines himself unable to escape that he becomes 
desperate, and therefore dangerous from his immense 
strength. 

We have been struck more than once with the resemblance 
of old bulls to lions, as we have seen them standing apart on 
the low ridges and sandy knolls, eying one from afar with an 
air of savage watchfulness — each neck crested with a luxu- 
riant mane, swelled into greater largeness by the hump be- 
neath it, each short, tufted tail held straight out from the 
body in bold and lion-like defiance. The full grown bull is 
immensely shaggy, especially about the head, which is covered 
with so vast a quantity of fur, wool and long hair hanging 
down over its eyes, and almost concealing the horns, as to 
give it the appearance of being nearly one-third the size of 
the whole body. Such an outline, seen relieved against the 
night sky, as one lies in cheerless bivouac upon the plains, is 
not calculated to inspire a feeling of safety. 

Most buffalo robes are found to have been split down the 
middle and sewed up again, the object of the process being to 
lighten the labor of dressing the skin. The Indian women dress 
all the robes, and few of them are able to prepare a complete 
hide without assistance. Some Indians, when asked why they 
have married more than one wife, will answer that each wife 
requires another to help her in dressing robes ; and the more 
wives one possesses the more skins he is able to bring to market. 



A WOOD-INDIA iV TIRADE. 347 

The hides are brought in from the hunt just as they are 
taken from the animals, and given to the women, who stretch 
them upon a rude framework of poles and flesh them with 
iron or bone scrapers. They are then slowly dried, and 
during this process various things are applied to render 
them pliable. 

The final work is painting the inside with pigments, a 
labor bestowed only upon unusually fine skins. We have 
seen some robes thus ornamented that were beautiful speci- 
mens of Indian decorative art. The designs used in most 
instances are of the calendar style. The intention seems to be 
to keep a record of certain years on the buffalo robe by some 
symbol representing an event that took place in that year. 
The events selected are not always the most important of the 
year, but such as were, in some sense, the most striking, and 
could be best represented by symbols. For example, stars 
falling from the top to the bottom of the robe represent 
the year 1833, an event from which the Indians frequently 
count. The etching of an Indian with a broken leg and a 
horn on his head stands for a year in which Mr. Hay-waujina> 
One Horn, had his leg " killed," and so on. The symbols are 
placed in a spiral form, beginning in the centre, and going a 
little to the left ; the line then turns on itself to the right 
and below, and so on, turning with the sun. These designs 
are copied many times, of course, so that in a pack of painted 
robes, nine-tenths of them will be decorated in exactly the 
same manner. 

The work of dressing a buffalo skin perfectly is a very 



348 THE GREA T FUR LAND. 

tedious process, and one squaw is only considered capable 
of preparing ten robes for market during the year. To the 
savage with any sort of an eye to business, this fact alone 
would be a sufficient incentive to polygamy on the most 
extended scale. 

The best robes are always reserved by the Indians and 
half-breeds for their own use, and some of them are marvels 
of beauty and finish. We have seen buffalo skins tanned to 
a degree of softness that would rival the finest cloths. The 
trader, for the most part, gets only second-rate robes and 
the refuse of the hunt. The Indian loves the buffalo, and 
delights in ornamenting his beautiful skin. The animal is 
his only friend, and small wonder he calls it so. It supplies 
every want from infancy to old age ; wrapped in his buffalo 
robe, the red man waits for the coming dawn. 

The catalogue of quadrupeds in the company's territory 
embraces ninety-four different animals ; but we have noticed 
the principal ones to whose fur the corporation confines its 
trade. There is a small traffic done in the robes of the musk-ox, 
and the furs of the ermine, siffloe, fitch, squirrel and chinchilla, 
but it is insignificant compared to the staples of the trade. 



THE END. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 



I. Tent Life in Siberia. Adventures among the Koraks and 

OTHER Tribes in Kamschatka and Northern Asia. Fifth 

Edition. i2mo, cloth extra, $l 75 

" We strongly recommend this book as one of the most entertaining volumes of 
travel that has appeared for some years." — London Atheticeujn. 

II. Travels in Portugal. By John Latouche. With Photo- 

graphic Illustrations. Octavo, cloth extra, . . • $3 50 

"A delightfully written book, as fair as it is pleasant. * * * Entertaining, 
fresh, and as full of wit as of valuable information." — London Spectator. 

III. The Abode of Snow. A Tour through Chinese Tibet, the 
Indian Caucasus, and the Upper Valleys of the Himalaya. 
By Andrew Wilson. Square octavo, cloth extra, with Map, $2 00 
"There is not a page in this volume which will not repay perusal. * * * 

The author describes all he meets with on his way with inimitable spirit." — Lojidon 
Athenoeutn. 

IV. The Life and Journals of John J. Audubon, th«» 
Naturalist. Comprising Narratives of his Expeditions in the 
American Forests, etc. i2mo, cloth extra, with Portrait, . $2 00 
" It is a grand story of a grand life ; more instructive than a sermon ; more ro- 
mantic than a romance." — Harper's l\Iagazine. 

V. Notes on England and Italy. By Mrs. Nathaniel Haw- 

thorne (wife of the Novelist). Third edition. i2mo, cloth, $2 00 
Illustrated edition, with 12 Steel Plates. Octavo, cloth extra, gilt 

edges, $5 00 

" One of the most delightful books of travel that has come under our notice."— 

Worcester Spy. 

"The grace and tenderness of the author of the ' Scarlet Letter' is discernible 

in its pages." — London Saturday Review. 

VI. Itecollections of a Tour Made in Scotland in 1803. 

By Dorothy Wordsworth (sister of the Poet). Edited by Prin- 
cipal Shairp, LL.D. i2mo, cloth extra, . . . $2 50 
"The volume glistens with charming passages, showing how rich in ' Words- 
worthian' fancy was this modest ^xsttx." —London Athenauni. 

VII. Bayard Taylor's Travels. Complete in 11 vols. Containing 
works upon Africa ; Egypt ; Iceland ; California and Mexico ; 
Greece and Russia ; India, China and Japan ; Palestine, Asia 
Minor, Sicily and Spain ; Sweden, Denmark and Lapland ; Europe, 
etc., etc. Per volume, . . . . . . . $1 50 

Or, II volumes, neatly put up in box, . . . . 16 50 

" There is no romance to us quite equal to one of Bayard Taylor's books of 

travel," — Hart/ord Republican. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 

PUTNAM'S ART HAND-BOOKS, 

Edited by Susan M. Carter, Superintendent of the Woman's 
Art School, Cooper Union 

I. Sketching from Nature. By Thomas Rowbotham. Reprinted 
from the Thirty-eighth English Edition. 27 Illustrations. i6mo, 
boards, .... ..... 50 cents. 

' It is a model of clearness and conciseness, and even the unartistic need have no 
•difficulty in understanding its contents."— /./^rary Table. 

" This is an excellent little book, which we heartily commend to amateurs." — Yale 
Courant. 

" Cannot fail to make a good landscape sketcher of anyone who is skilful in the 
use of the pencil." — Albany A rgus. 

" It is full of useful hints, simply stated." — Boston Continoniuealth. 

II. Landscape Painting in Oil Colors. By W. Williams. Re- 
printed from the Thirty-fourth English Edition. i6mo, boards, 50 cents. 

" Every young artist should possess the volume, which will be found readily to be 
worth ten times the amount for which it is sold." — Boston Traveller. 

" Will be found a valuable adjunct to an art education." — N. Y. Evening Express. 

III. Flower Painting. By Mrs. Wm. Duffield. Reprinted from 
the Twelfth English Edition. 12 Illustrations. i6mo, boards, 50 cents. 

" It is a thoroughly scientific and practical treatise." — Boston IVatchman. 

" Its instructions are clear, condensed, and sufficiently minute." — Detroit Post and 
Tribune. 

" The instructions include everything that needs to be known regarding the art of 
painting flowers in water colors." — Buffalo Express. 

Of the Series the A^. F. 7V/i5?<«^ says : "* * * cannot fail to command the at- 
tention of art students." 

The Christian Union says : " * * * We can, from personal knowledge, 
recommend them as excellent hand-books for amateurs." 

IV. Figure Drawing. By C. H. Weigall Reprinted from the 
Twenty-first English Edition. 17 Illustrations. i6mo, boards, 50 cents. 

V. An Artistic Treatise on the Human Figure. By Henry 
Warren, Brest, of London Institute of Painters in Water Colors. 
(In preparation.) 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 



WYCH HAZEL. By Susan and Anna Wapner, authors of 
"Wide, Wide World," "Queechy," etc., etc. Large i2mo, cloth 

extra, $l 75 

" If more books of this order were produced, it would ejevate the tastes and in- 
crease the desire for obtaining a higher order of literature." — The Critic. 

" We can promise every lover of fine fiction a wholesome feast in the book." — 
Boston Traveller. 

THE GOLD OF CHICKAREE. By the authors of " Wych 
Hazel," "Wide, Wide World," "Dollars and Cents," etc., etc. 
Large i2mo, cloth extra, . . . . . . ■ $i 75 

" It would be impossible for these two sisters to write anything the public 

would not care to read." — Boston Transcript. 

''The plot is fresh, and the dialogue delightfully vivacious." — Detroit Free 

Press. 

DIANA. By the author of " Wych Hazel," " Wide, Wide World," etc. 

i2mo, cloth $1 75 

" For charming landscape pictures, and the varied influences of nature, for 
analysis of character, and motives of action, we have of late seen nothing like it." — The 
Christian Register. 

" ' Diana ' will be eagerly read by the author's large circle of admirers, who will 
rise from its perusal with the feeling that it is in every respect worthy of her reputa- 
tion." — Boston Traveller. 

NEVER AGAIN. By W. S. Mayo. A new work by the author of 
" Kaloolah." Illustrated with numerous Engravings, designed and 
engraved by Gaston Fay. In one volume, over 700 pages, uniform 
with "Kaloolah," . . . , . . . . $2 00 

" Puts its author in the front rank of novelists." — London Athenautn. 

DOUBLEDAY'S CHILDREN. A striking Novel by the well- 
known London critic, Dutton Cook. Square i6mo, cloth, $1 00 

" Some of the scenes will recall Hugo and Dickens, but the work is in no way 
an XXatisAion.'"— Boston Post. 

"Shows unusual power of character sketching." — Boston Traveller. 

SIX TO ONE : A Nantucket Idyl. By a new author. Square 
i6mo, paper, 50 cts. : cloth, . . . . . . $1 00 

The summer experience of an editor who went to Nantucket for rest for an 
overtasked bram, and who, under the influence of an environment of unlimited 
ocean and girls (especially girls), found rest and— something else. 

THE JOHNSON MANOR. By James Kent. A Tale of New 
York in the Early Days of the Republic. Square i2mo, . $1 25 

"The story is full of all that sort of adventure which makes Cooper so interest- 
ing, and it possesses in addition an element of fact that adds greatly to the intrinsic 
merit of the narrative." — New Orleans Times. 

SIBYL SPENCER. By the author of "The Johnson Manor." 
Square i2nio, . . . . . . . . . $1 25 

ALMOST AN ENGLISHMAN. By a new author. Square i6mo, 
paper, 50 cts. ; cloth $1 00 

THE CREW OF THE SAM. WELLER. By John Habberton, 
author of "The Barton Experiment," "The Jericho Road," " The 
Scripture Club," etc., etc. Square i6mo, paper, sects. ; cloth, $1 00 
A vigorous and realistic study of Western life and character. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 

Standard Works of Reference. 

V»UTNAM (George Palmer) The World's Progress. A Diction- 
ary of Dates. Being a Chronological and Alphabetical Record of the 
essential facts in the progress of Society. With Tabular views of Uni- 
versal History, Literary Chronology, Biographical Index, etc., etc. 
From the Creation of the World to August, 1877. By George P 
Putnam. Revised and continued by Frederic Beecher Perkins. 
Octavo, containing about 1,200 pages, half morocco, $7 00 ; cloth 
extra, . $4 5C 

♦#* The most comprehensive book ot its size and price in the language. 

" It is absolutey essential to the desk of every mercbaut, and the table of every 
student and professional man." — Christian Inquirer. 

" It is worth ten times its price. ♦ ♦ * It completely supplies my need."— 
S. W. PiKGART, Principal of High School^ Lancaster, Pa. 

" A more convenient literary labor-saving machine than this excellent compila- 
tion can scarcely be found in any language." — N. Y. Tribune. 

HAYDN. A Dictionary of Dates, relating X9 tM. Ages 
and Nations, for Universal Reference. By Benjamin Vin- 
cent. The new (15th) English edition. With an American Supple- 
ment, containing about 200 additional pages, including American Topics 
and a copious Biographical Index, by G. P. Putnam, A. M. Large 
Octavo, 1,000 pages. Cloth $9 00 ; half russia . . . $12 00 

THE BEST READING. A classified bibliography for easy reference. 
Edited by Frederic B. Perkins. Fifteenth edition, revised, enlarged 
and entirely re-written. Continued to August, 1876. Octavo, cloth, 
$1 75 ; paper $l 25 

"The best work of the kind we have ever seen." — College Courant. 
" We know of no manual that can take its place as a guide to the selection of ■ 
library." — N. Y. Independent. 

PUTNAM'S LIBRARY COMPANION A quarterly summary, 
giving priced and classified lists of the English and American publica- 
tions of the pz.si V^iree months, with the addition of brief analyses or 
characterizations ot ihe more important works ; being a quarterly con- 
tinuation of The Best Reading. Published in April, July, October, 

and January. Price to subscribers, socts., a year. Vol. I., boards, 50cts. 
" We welcome the first number ot this little quarterly. It should prove invaluable 

alike to librarians, to students, and to general readers."— ^<7j/<7« Traveler. 

JUKES (THE) A Study in Crime, Pauperism, Disease, and 
Heredity. By R. L. Dugdale. Published for the *' Prison As- 
sociation of New York." Octavo, cloth . . . . $1 25 

"A work that ^^ill command the interest of the philanthropist and the social re- 
•ormer, aud deserves the attention of every citizen and taxpayer. — N. Y. Tribune. 

JERVIS (John B.) Labor and Capital. A complete and compre- 
hensive treatise by the veteran engineer, whose experience of more than 
half a century has given him exceptional opportunities for arriving at a 
practical understanding of the questions now at issue between employers 
and employed. i2mo, cloth $1 25 

LINDERMAN (Henry R., Director of the Uni led States Mint) 
Money and Legal Tender in the United States. 12010, 

cloth I 25 



^^L 2 31948 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




017 463 597 3 



